Uncertainty
by Casmoiraitiel
Summary: Can Ziva be saved before it's too late?   Hurt/comfort/romance/friendship/crime   Rating will change to M in the future.
1. Finding Ziva

**A/N: Can Agent Ziva David be saved before it's too late? *Hint at relationships, violence, drug use, and sexual encounters* Reviews are welcome!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, but I enjoy playing with the characters. Story is purely my own creation.**

_-*Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo pulled her into his arms.*-_

Ziva David let herself into her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her before absently tossing her keys onto the counter. Her dark hair was a mess, half spilling out from the messy pony-tail she had pulled it into earlier that day. Her eyes were red where she'd been crying, unusual for her normal stoic demeanor, rarely showing any emotion at all. She had only just managed to keep herself together until she'd gotten in her car and away from NCIS headquarters.

She dropped her bag on the floor and decidedly put one foot in front of the other, shuffling toward the bathroom and turning on her shower. It had been a hard month for her and she'd struggled to keep her stress from the work place, finding Gibbs glancing frequently over at her as if he were studying her. She'd dropped the ball several times on crime scene runs, drawing several heated elevator discussions as they'd returned to the bullpen, which she always seemed to space out of.

Today had been no different, and both Tony and McGee had approached her, asking if everything were okay. She couldn't tell them. She couldn't find the words to tell them what had her so spooked.

Shivering, she looked down at her clothed body, feeling as if she were staring at someone else. She felt numb, sick, disoriented. It had often felt like she was moving awkwardly through a waking dream over the past few weeks.

"_Ziva._"

She spun around, hearing what sounded like a very teasing whisper of her name sound directly by her ear. Her breath caught in her chest. She knew that voice. She knew the pain attached to that voice. "You are here alone, Ziva," she said aloud, looking at herself intensely in the mirror, trying to convince herself that she did not feel the hands pulling at her body. "There is no one here." Her voice broke and another tear slid down her cheeks.

"_Ziva…"_ The voice sounded again, this time from her other side.

She shrugged away from the imaginary hands, climbing fully clothed to stand in the shower, trying to scrub the hands away. She cried freely, occasional sobs tearing through her body. It felt as if she were losing her grip on reality.

"_Ziva!"_

"Go away!" she cried, strangling on her own tears, redoubling her efforts to cleanse herself. "You…you are not real!"

A sinister chuckle seemed to echo through the bathroom and chills crawled over her skin, sending her stumbling from the shower to retch into the toilet, voiding what she'd managed to eat before leaving work.

"_It is time for you to wake, Ziva. No more sleeping until I am finished with you."_

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the cool porcelain between her hands, keeping her grounded to reality. Hopelessness descended on her then, draping over her like a wet blanket.

Dizzy, she pushed herself to her feet, reaching unsteadily for the bathroom door. It grayed and seemed to shift before her. She knew these doors. She had to escape. She pushed out into the open room, turning on her heels as she seemed to reel, panic gripping her.

"No," she sobbed. "No, no, no!" She felt hands reach out, grasping her arms tightly to halt her movement. Her breath burned in her chest as she breathed in the familiar smell, knowing who held her as he paced around to stand in front of her.

His cold, calculating eyes seem to pierce her through, lined with cruel laugh-lines. "_Welcome back, Ziva. I thought you were going to sleep all day."_

Her legs gave out and she fell to the floor.

**000010000**

"Either of you get anything out of Ziva?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked, looking up as his agents, DiNozzo and McGee, reentered the bullpen. Tony sat his bag down by his desk.

"No, boss," he replied, "she wouldn't talk to me."

"Me either," McGee added, pushing a few buttons on his keyboard to shake his computer out of sleep mode as he took his seat.

Gibbs absently scratched his fingers through his short graying hair, looking thoughtfully over at the desk his newest probationary agent normally occupied. She had been so scattered that he'd sent her home after lunch, ordering her to sleep and to call him when she woke. Offended, she had protested, insisting that she could do her job.

"Boss?"

"It's alright, DiNozzo. She's supposed to call me when she wakes up." He stood, moving to stand at his senior agent's desk. "How are you feeling, while we're on the subject?"

"No more shakes, boss," came the reply as he flashed him a winning grin.

"Good. Finish the report on the Harrington case." He strode off toward the break room, making a coffee stop before heading up to MTAC.

Sighing, Tony pulled out his case notes and the file, reaching over to pull open a new document on his computer screen.

"Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah, Probie?" He glanced over at his partner, stifling the urge to pop off something smart as he saw the expression on his face.

"Ziva really hasn't told you what's bothering her?" he asked after a moment.

"No, McGee." His brow furrowed as the younger agent gave him a nod as if confirming something to himself before turning back to his computer, his fingers flying across the keys as he, too, took frequent glances over at the empty desk. Ziva had them all worried.

Returning to his own work, he decided he'd stop in to check on her before heading home. They'd talk tonight.

**2100 Hours…**

Tony climbed out of his car, relieved to find Ziva's parked outside of her apartment. She had made it home. He jogged to the main door and let himself inside, climbing up the stairs and knocking on her door. There was no answer. Frowning, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial for her phone, listening at the door as it rung through. He could hear the ring coming from the other side of the door. She was home. He knocked again, this time louder.

"C'mon, Ziva," he grumbled under his breath, "Never be unreachable!" He knocked again, eventually searching around her door for her spare key. After a moment, he was able to let himself in to her apartment, cautiously looking around to make sure she wasn't aiming a gun at him from across the room. Feeling secure, he stepped inside and kicked the door shut, noting her keys on the counter and her bag by the inside of the door. He could hear the shower running. "Ziva!" He stepped around the corner, his eyes immediately finding her lying motionless on her back on the floor.

He swallowed his fear, finding himself immediately at her side, checking for a pulse, which he found going strong, easing his breath a little. Her clothes were damp and her body chilled. He realized she'd showered with her clothes on. "Ziva," he said softly, cupping her cheeks in his hands and lifting her eyelids with his thumbs, checking her pupils. "Wake up, Ziva."

She didn't stir.

Anguished, he gathered her into his arms.

-*_He tried to still his racing heart, glancing around the apartment for signs of a struggle.*-_

**_tbc..._**


	2. Infiltrating the Operation

**A/N: Special thanks to those who have stopped by an left me reviews. I hope you enjoy this next chapter as well and that it was up to your expectations. More to come soon.**

_-*Tony stood, gazing at what lay on the table in front of him.*-_

**Two Months Earlier**

"What's the update, DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded, answering the call from the agent's cover phone.

"I'm in, boss," came the quiet reply. "Matthews said it's a two week job. Warehouse. Lakeside Drive."

"Cover good?"

"Yeah, no compromise."

"Be careful, Tony," he answered, "and good work." The line went dead and he slid the phone back into his pocket. He was always on edge when one of his own was undercover, and when it involved drugs, there were all sorts of unpleasant scenarios that seemed to play in his mind.

NCIS had been following Steve Matthews for the better part of six months, receiving a tip off from a frightened petty officer that military transports were being used to smuggle large amounts of drugs across the border. The operation, until then, had been well hidden. Only a week later, the same petty officer had been found dead in his home on base. Despite having the best team on the case, they had been unable to find any evidence to connect the murder to Matthews' ring. At the director's request, they had reluctantly agreed to infiltrate the operation to bring it down from the inside.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had spent his fair share of time in undercover ops, and he was good at it, falling into his roles naturally. He was a quick thinker and able to improvise in tight situations, usually throwing off suspicion with his humor and movie references. While he appeared to be watching nothing at all, he could accurately map out any room he walked into with only a few moments.

Matthews, however, never accepted teams, and Gibbs had been forced to make the decision to send his agent in alone, no wires and no locators, knowing Tony would be resourceful enough to contact them with information and trusting that Timothy McGee would be able to follow whatever electronic trails Tony would be leaving. The goth forensic scientist, Abby Sciuto, had been tasked with recreating Tony's identity, covering him so deep that Matthews wouldn't be able to find his true identity.

After weeks of careful planning, Tony was put out on the streets, almost completely cut off from his team. He'd been planted on Matthews' territory where he'd been lounging for the better part of a day before someone decided to mess with him, bringing him to the attention of the ring leader as he'd taken the bigger man down with minimal effort, staring down the goon who held him at gunpoint.

A phone call and a half hour later, Tony had been led up to the old warehouse and pushed through to a closed room on the second floor where Matthews had been waiting for him. That was all Ziva had been able to see as she'd tracked him on foot, reluctantly retreating before slipping away to return to her watch post.

**000010000**

"What exactly am I supposed to do?" Tony asked, leaning casually against the door frame as he watched the surveillance footage play over the computer screen. Steve Matthews had been particularly impressed as Tony had held his ground, not backing down when he'd had a gun directly in his face.

"Wait," came the response as the muscular blond-haired man regarded him with a curious look, letting another program run on his computer.

Tony stretched, nodding as he crossed his arms across his chest, instinctively knowing that Matthews was running his name for a background check.

"I find trust hard to come by these days." He spoke with an accent, clearly Russian though it wasn't heavily defined. "If you will, Mr. Mason, will you stand for me and remove your shirt." It was an order, not a question.

Tony slowly unbuttoned his shirt, knowing he was being searched for wires. He slid his jacket and shirt off, spinning slowly until he faced the man behind the desk again. _Here's hoping he doesn't go for the pants too,_ DiNozzo thought, drawing a humored smirk to his lips. He slid the discarded articles back on as he received an approving nod.

"You are well kept," he continued, "I think you will be an asset to my team." His eyes returned to his computer screen as a report popped up, covering the looped footage. "Michael Anthony Mason." He pursed his lips, reading over the fabricated report on the page. Drug trafficking charges littering over the last decade on a small scale, domestic abuse charges, several accounts of breaking and entering. "You do not seem like a small-scale kind of guy, Mr. Mason."

"Just…Tony, please," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "If you're offering a bigger line of work, I won't turn it down."

"You have skill with firearms, Tony?"

"I hold my own."

A smile touched the other man's face and he chuckled. "Do you use the drugs you push? A sample or two, perhaps?"

"I like to make money, not blow it." He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes and he met the blue eyes across from him. "Can't stay lookin' this good if I'm stupid enough to use my own product."

His words drew an outright laugh from Matthews and he shook his head. "Tony, Tony, Tony." He stood, extending his hand, allowing him to shake it. "I welcome you. I have not been this entertained in many months."

"That's me," he smiled, "always good for a laugh."

Matthews clapped him on the shoulder, gesturing toward the door. They walked together down the stairs, back to the empty first floor. "This will be a two week job for you, and if you do well, I will see to it that you are well paid. The current offer stands at $20,000."

"That's…very generous, but what does $20,000 cover?"

"It will be your job to ensure my delivery arrives on schedule. It does not matter how it arrives here. You will intercept the delivery from Bethesda Naval Hospital. I have men on the inside there."

"Not worried about Feds, I take it?"

"I have been doing this for a year, Tony," he chuckled, "and they have not caught me yet." He stopped, leveling a serious gaze at him. "I expect to keep it that way. No screw ups."

"No screw ups," Tony echoed, waiting for them to resume walking. His eyes traveled around the warehouse, taking in every detail. He was careful not to dwell on one place to long, drawing a mental map and deciding quickly on weak points.

Matthews continued to speak idly with his new employee as they made their way down a hidden staircase built against the furthest wall of the warehouse floor. The hallway they emerged into was dimly lit with doors spaced evenly down either side. Several, it appeared, were used for storage, but they didn't stop until they reached the end of the hallway. Tony slowly stepped inside the door that was held open for him, Matthews moving in behind him, closing the door at his back.

Tony quickly took stock of the room, inwardly flinching as he noticed how similar it seemed to many of the torture rooms he'd found himself in over the years. He slid his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, regretting that he was unarmed.

His eyes could just make out men standing in the corners of the darkened room, and he guessed they were armed, standing guard over whatever might happen in this little corner of hell.

A dim light came on over a desk against the back wall as Matthews took a seat, motioning for Tony to join him. "This is…not a nice room, as I see you understand. I do not like to spend time here, but at times, it is a must."

"What happens in here?" he asked, keeping one eye trained toward the door.

"Many things," came the answer. "It is here that I exact payment for what is owed me when things go wrong. Call it my 'insurance policy.'"

"Torture." He had been right and he felt his skin crawl, thankful for the cover of shadows.

"So you understand."

"Perfectly."

Steve Matthews stood and shook Tony's hand again. "You are free to go, for now, Tony. I will require you back here before six a.m. I trust I will not have to bring you back to this room."

DiNozzo quickly exited the room, making fast work of the hallway and stairs before emerging into the brighter first floor of the warehouse. He made his way outside, breathing deep of the less confining air. The walk back to his cover apartment was relatively short and he climbed up the dirty stairs, letting himself into the bare room, never so glad to be behind closed doors in his life.

He slid his phone from his pocket and dialed the number McGee had given him to call, which was redirected to Gibbs' cell phone, and made his initial report. He was in.

**000010000**

The next two days were spent on guard duty as Matthews made rounds about the city, distributing product to his pushers and collecting money. Things got rough a few times, forcing Tony to step in and subdue the high and panicking pushers, their eyes growing wide as he leaned in to whisper something in their ear through his choke hold, instantly causing them to calm. Two men were forced into the back of the van and restrained, no doubt bound for the room under the warehouse where payment would be taken from their bodies in bloody strips.

Matthews kept an amused and watchful eye on his new henchmen, finding with each stop that he liked his new hire more and more. On several occasions, he even questioned why Tony had never sought a more active criminal lifestyle, which had only received a laugh and a shrug in response.

The third day was devoted to picking up the first large shipment from the medical supply run from Bethesda. As was expected, Tony arrived with the van as the last pallet was unloaded from the truck. Two of the orderlies waved the others inside before quickly turning and hoisting the stock into the van, smacking the side as the door closed to signal everything was good to go. The entire transaction had been hidden from the security cameras by the delivery truck.

Matthews grinned broadly as he pulled the van directly into the warehouse, gesturing for his men to unload the shipment. "You are very efficient, Tony. No shipment has ever arrived without at least one hold up.

"I know the city," he replied, tossing the keys back to his employer.

"You are free to go for the day. Do not go too far. I may need you again."

**000010000**

A week had gone by without a hitch and Tony had gathered useful intel on Matthews' operation, more than enough to take him down. Gibbs had planned to 'arrest' him on the next pick up from the hospital, taking him out of harm's way while catching the orderlies in the attack. They had traced the shipments back to Bethesda's supply company, which delivered stock to and from the naval airbase.

Tony strode into the warehouse, flashing one of his confident smiles at Matthews as he made his way down the stairs from the second floor.

"We go for more deliveries today," he greeted, gesturing to the dark town car, "just you and me."

"Sure," Tony replied, taking his cue to climb into the back seat across from Matthews. He barely heard him give the order for his chauffer to drive.

This delivery run seemed to be taking them to the more upscale part of the city, away from the shadier parts the blond dealer had distributed at before. Most of the run was made successfully, only forcing Tony to push around his weight once, receiving immediate results.

"You are good for business. I may be convinced to keep you on longer, if you are interested, of course."

"I've done more for less," Tony quipped, offering a smile as he pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Tetris," he answered, turning the screen around for the other man to see the game he'd opened. He had a feeling in his gut that things weren't going to run smoothly and he wanted unquestioned access to his phone in case he needed to send for help. "Actually I find I concentrate a bit better once I take my mind off the job for a bit."

"I never found much use for games, even as a child," he said with a dismissive gesture. "It is a waste of time. I made my first million by the time I was sixteen, and it was no game."

He seemed quite proud of himself, Tony noticed. "Guess you have part of your answer there then. I haven't looked for more because I like to play games instead."

Matthews chuckled again, shaking his head. "You are a very strange man."

"So I've been told."

The deliveries and pick ups continued past noon, often making exchanges in view of the local LEOs. Matthews didn't seem to mind, handling the transactions himself, and no one seemed to pay any attention to them.

"Did you pay off the cops too?" he finally queried, squinting at a local squad car that sat only a few feet away.

"I find that they simply do not bother me. I do not know their reasons."

Tony made a non-committal sound, seeming to return his attention back to the screen of his phone.

"Here," he told his chauffer, stopping outside of a large building where a young girl was standing, toying with her pony tail. She smiled, stepping up to the window. "Hello, Sasha." He offered her a small smile, accepting the bundle of bills from her hand.

"New goon?" she asked, grinning playfully at Tony who was keeping his head angled down, avoiding looking up at her under the ruse of playing his game. "_Shy_ new goon." She accepted the new package from Matthews.

"Do not be coy, Tony. Say hello to the girl."

Tony cringed, lowering the phone to his side after opening a text message to McGee, _911, _and closed his phone, forcing himself to look up into the familiar face of Private Sasha Corbin, brought in only months before for questioning in the death of the petty officer who had ratted Matthews out.

"Agent DiNozzo?" The name dropped from her lips in shock and she threw the package back at Matthews, turning and sprinting away.

Tony looked ahead, careful not to give any clue that he had heard her.

"_Agent_?" the blond repeated, the word seeming to drip in bottled anger.

"She's confused," Tony offered tonelessly, looking over at the man he was meant to bring down.

"No," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes, "I do not believe she was. That would…explain so many things." He tapped the back of the driver's seat and they immediately started moving again. "Agent DiNozzo. I told you where we would go if you betrayed my trust."

Tony glanced over, seeing the barrel of the pistol trailed on him from underneath the neatly pressed suit sleeve. _Can't ever run a damned op in the city you work in!_ He forced himself to remain calm, knowing that panic would get him nowhere. So far, he had not been asked for his phone and he knew that if he could get three seconds, he could toss the phone before it was taken from him. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he eased it out of his pocket and into his jacket sleeve.

They pulled back into the shade of the warehouse and he was escorted from the vehicle, led to the staircase that descended down into the dark, dank hallway. He felt the metal of the gun press against his back, forcing him forward. As he began down the stairs, he shook the phone from his sleeve, waiting for the shadows to cover him before he lodged it between the metal and the wall under the pretense of steadying his descent.

One of the guards took over as they stepped into the room, taking his arm and leading him to stand in front of Matthews' desk. Drawers were opened and closed and clicks could be heard coming from whatever his captor had found. A small box moved into view and opened, laid flat.

Tony stood, gazing down at what laid on the table before him.

_-*His gut clenched and he could only pray his team would get there before Matthews had his way.*-_

**tbc...**


	3. 911

**A/N: Many special thanks to those of you who have read, reviewed, and added this fic for alerts. You keep me writing! I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to drop a comment :) I love hearing from you. Please forgive the errors. I was in a hurry to get something posted for you in the midst of moving. (Busy busy day!)**

_-*His eyes traveled to the door, waiting for help to arrive.*-_

**In the Bullpen**

Agent Gibbs stepped off the elevator, taking a long, appreciative drag of his coffee. Dawn was just breaking outside. He strode into the bullpen, noting that McGee was already at his desk, his eyes coming unglued from his computer screen only long enough to toss a greeting nod his way.

"Late night, McGee?" he asked, taking a seat behind his desk.

"Got here half an hour ago. Keeping an eye on Tony," he answered, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes.

"Something wrong?"

"Woulda called you if something was wrong, boss." He leaned back in his chair. "Just…call it a gut feeling."

Gibbs nodded slowly, taking another drag from his lidded cup. "I've got the same feeling, McGee." His words seemed to give his agent the assurance he needed. Tim had obviously lost sleep over this. Though McGee and DiNozzo picked on each other incessantly, they were more like brothers than either of them realized. "He made his check-in this morning. Should be alright for a little while."

The younger agent nodded, minimizing the gps tracking he'd pulled open on Tony's phone, which was hovering around the warehouse. "Right, boss."

"Tony mentioned this morning he's pretty sure Matthews is an alias. His file doesn't mention that, so I need you to do some digging."

"I can do that."

Gibbs stood, favoring him with a small smile of approval as he made his way around his desk. "Tony's been through worse. He'll be alright." With those unusually softly spoken words, he walked over to the elevator, stepping inside, disappearing as the doors closed.

Sighing, the young agent settled deeper into his chair, pulling open a new browser, his fingers typing rapidly at the keyboard as he sought to uncover the information his boss required. The sound of his keystrokes seemed to drown out the noise of the occasional agent passing by as he lost himself in the lines of code and text covering his monitor. If Tony was right, he'd find the answer.

**Agent Gibbs**

The older agent watched the blond-haired youth plug away at his keyboard as the doors to the elevator closed. Tim was an exceptional agent, and he had every faith that if there was an answer to be found, he could find it. He hit the button, sending the elevator heading down to the cafeteria to retrieve a Caf-Pow before returning to Abby's lab, quietly stepping through the door to stand behind her. Her loud music drowned out the sound of his approach.

"What do ya got for me, Abs?" he asked, sitting the drink beside her on the counter.

"Gibbs!" she exclaimed excitedly, spinning quickly on her heel to face him. Her long dark hair had been swept up into two small buns on either side of her head, tied with black ribbons adorned with red skulls. She took a long draw from the straw of his offered drink, her eyes lighting up. "How's Tony?"

"He's good, Abby," he answered, knowing she was as concerned for him as he was. "Now…evidence."

She nodded, turning back to her screen, pulling up the surveillance footage McGee had hacked from Matthews' system at the warehouse. Quickly, she pulled several isolated freeze-frames up on the screen. They were blurry, despite her best attempts to clean them up. "Not really a lot to work with, Gibbs. There's no cameras inside the warehouse itself…just outside activity. I managed to get an ID on the guy who approached Tony. Couldn't get an angle on the guy with the gun."

A file popped up under the footage and she clicked it open. "Daniel Harwood," he read, squinting his eyes to bring the screen into focus. "Army…90-91...dishonorably discharged. A few minor possession charges. Matthews' crew is a bit of a big step for him."

"That's what I thought to." She clicked another document open. "He was discharged for derelict of duty. He was on protection detail for a large amount of drugs being handed over to the FBI, confiscated on base. We're talkin'…mother lode here, Gibbs. Easy mil." She took another long draw on the straw, the caffeine already seeming to take effect as her words sped up. "Large portion of that went missing, but they couldn't tie it to him. Both him and the other guy on duty, Petty Officer Ian Simmons, were discharged. The drugs haven't been recovered."

"Good work, Abs," he smiled slightly, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he left the lab, adjusting his jacket as he stepped back into the elevator. All the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

**Agent Ziva David**

The Israeli woman covered a yawn with her hand, stretching to stay awake as she observed the warehouse from the second floor of the empty repair shop. The large window was grimy and she had to focus to see through, but it gave her view of the road to and from the warehouse and she was able to see her partner when he moved to and from work on foot. Only when he had returned to his cover apartment for the day did she chance to slip home for a shower, food, a few hours of sleep before she headed back again, relieving the temporary agent on duty who had taken her place, not trusting anyone else to the job.

Years of training had honed her abilities, and she could withstand long hours on stake out, remaining completely silent and unseen as she observed the comings and goings of her assignment.

She had, however, been restless and the two hours she'd spent laying in bed hadn't been enough rest before she'd returned to her post. Tony's time on this assignment had been short compared to even some of the operations they'd worked together, but he was alone and too close to his target. One slip-up and they'd be too late. She couldn't help but feel anxious.

The car carrying both Tony and Matthews had left early that morning, around eight. She put through a quiet call to McGee, whispering the departure time and direction for their log. Whispering was necessary. Matthews had two guards posted only steps in front of the old repair shop at all times, forcing Ziva to leave and return through a loose board at the back of the building.

One of the guards had been identified, but the other stayed out of view, either standing directly beside the building she took shelter in, or keeping his hat pulled low over his eyes. She couldn't tell much more than his height and the fact that he had brown hair. Gibbs had told her not to approach them yet, not until they were sure they could remove Tony successfully from the op, ideally under the ruse of an arrest.

Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest and settled in to wait.

**Agent Timothy McGee**

McGee ran his hand through his hair in frustration, waiting for the facial recognition program to filter through the blurry images Abby had sent to him from the security footage, isolating Matthews. If the images happened to be clear enough, they would find out who Steve Matthews was and where he had been.

While the program ran in the background, he continued filtering through the CIA and FBI case files he'd managed to pull on known narcotics dealers, looking for any that might match Matthews' description. Aside from the hacking, this was usually the part that Tony was best at. He sighed, glancing over at the empty desk. He'd be glad when this was over, even if he wouldn't outright admit it.

Gibbs had returned to his desk, pulling his reading glasses from the top drawer as he opened several files in front of him, burying himself in his own work. McGee seemed more focus with his boss in the bullpen, and he renewed his efforts, digging deeper into archived databases for cold cases.

He jumped with his phone rang, startling him back to reality. A quick glance at his watch showed him it was 1400 hours and he quickly answered the call, nodding in response to Gibbs' silent question. It was Ziva.

The town car had returned to the warehouse without incident and she could just make out her partner exiting the right side of the car, waiting for Matthews to join him as he usually did before the doors to the warehouse closed. All seemed to be in order.

"Thanks, Ziva," he murmured, laying the phone back on his desk.

**At the Warehouse**

Tony stood, looking down at the box that laid open in front of him on the table. There was a large syringe inside, lying next to a brown glass bottle. He let his eyes find the cold blue ones in front of him, meeting them squarely as he cocked his jaw.

"Do you know what this is, _Agent DiNozzo?_" Matthews asked, gesturing at the bottle.

"I told ya, I'm not an agent," he responded confidently, his eyes narrowed in feigned anger, hoping to somehow throw the man in front of him off of his scent. "She was confused. I hate Feds!" That much was true.

"Do you take me for a fool?" the man snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You are a unique looking man, Tony. A face one does not forget."

"You hittin' on me?" came the question, drawing a deeper scowl from his accuser. "'Cause I'm kinda taken."

"I ask you again," Matthews continued, standing, waiting as his guards forced his captive into a chair. "Do you know what this is, Agent DiNozzo?" He lifted the bottle from the velvet lining of the box, the syringe cradled almost lovingly in his other hand. "Torture…torture is so messy. Blood. Tears. Incessant begging." He looked squarely at Tony. "These are expensive suits. I cannot afford to soil them with the blood of unworthy filth."

Slowly, he plunged the long, thick needle into the rubberized top of the bottle, drawing the contents forth until it filled the syringe with a pale, sickly yellow liquid, making sure Tony watched the entire ordeal as he slightly pressed the plunger, wasting only a few drops of the liquid as he removed the air from the tube.

"I don't know what that is," Tony finally consented, carefully schooling his expression, "and I'm assuming you're not gonna waste it."

"Tell me," a large, sadistic smile had spread over his face, "which agency do you work for?" He drummed his fingers against the desk. "It will be easier if you simply cooperate for now, Tony."

Tony exhaled slowly, relaxing his shoulders despite feeling his guard tense behind him. "My name is _Very _Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, senior field agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Services." He flashed his captor a winning smile, shrugging slightly.

"_Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,_" he repeated mockingly, shaking his head. "You agents…you are all so damned prideful."

"No, no, no," Tony chuckled, his grin fading to a slight smirk, "I have every right to be prideful. Me. My team. We're the best at what we do. If pretty little Sasha hadn't happened across me when she did, I'd have you feeding me all of your little secrets by the end of this week. Hell," he threw his head back, laughing, "look at how much you've _already_ told me. It's better than breaking you in interrogation."

"Oh!" Matthews feigned shock, his eyes slightly widening. "You are indeed a _very special agent._ My apologies." He paced around Tony's chair, eyeing the agent carefully.

"If ya think ya like me, wait'll ya meet my boss." He consciously followed his captor's pacing with his ears, keeping track of where he was in the room. "Gibbs. Ex-marine. Sniper. Now there's one that's handy with a gun." _And he's coming for me, _he added to himself. "If he don't get ya first…well then there's Agent Da-veed, the lovely and oh, so talented, former Mossaud assassin." If he could keep talking long enough, his team would have time to get into position to storm the warehouse.

"All…very impressive," came the slow response as he came to stand in front of the agent again. "I require your phone, Agent."

"It's in my pocket," he responded without hesitation, holding himself still as Matthews reached for it, his hand patting down the outside of his pocket. "Gonna buy me dinner now, or you just gonna jump to third base?" His captor backhanded him then, rocking him back in the chair and drawing blood to the busted lip.

"Where is your phone, Agent DiNozzo?" Barely controlled rage flavored his words as he gripped the pressure point behind Tony's knee.

"It's in my pocket," Tony repeated through gritted teeth, his eyes involuntarily tearing.

"It is not in your pocket. You have hidden it!" The accusation flew from his lips, followed by more pressure, the large thumb digging in painfully to the tender spot. "Tell me where it is!"

"I musta…dropped it outside…when we got outta the car." A wave of relief washed over him as the grip loosened on his leg.

Matthews sent one of the guards near the door out to search the warehouse, curses flying under his breath in Russian. "It does not matter. Had they known you were compromised, they would have made themselves known by now. Perhaps your team is not as good as you claim them to be."

"Got a point there," DiNozzo admitted. Keeping the target in the warehouse, thinking he was secure, almost ensured a capture.

"Restrain him." Matthews grabbed his forearm as two pairs of rough hands grabbed his biceps, holding him down in the chair.

The needle pierced against the bend of his arm, puncturing into his ripe vein. Matthews looked him in the eye as he depressed the plunger, emptying the yellow liquid fully into DiNozzo's bloodstream. A sneer touched his lips as the agent closed his eyes, realization falling on him heavily.

"Leave him. He is not going anywhere. We must make ready to leave." He stood, looking down his nose at Tony. "I warned you, Tony, and now you will know what happens to those who betray me."

The door opened and closed, Matthews filing out, followed by his guards. DiNozzo stood, already feeling lightheaded as the serum took quick effect. Determinedly, he put one foot in front of the other, feeling disconnected, his legs feeling as if they'd disappeared under his body. His brow furrowed and he reached forward in front of him, swiping for the door.

_What did he give me? _he thought, wavering unsteadily. His tongue felt heavy and he could feel his heart rate increase, thundering in his ears. He fell to his knees and found his back, staring at the door, waiting for help.

_-*His eyes squeezed shut, willing the discomfort to go away.*-_

**tbc...**


	4. Saving Tony

**A/N: I wanted to get something out for you guys today. Far too busy getting ready to jet set out of the country, so this chapter is a little shorter than I'd like. However, the reviews have been great and happy readers keep me writing. Thank you all! Please, let me know what you think. (Sorry it's late, also. was down for me yesterday!)**

_-*Gibbs paused in the doorway, fearing they had been too late.*-_

**In the Bullpen**

Gibbs checked his watch, noticing that the deadline for Tony's evening check-in had already passed by an hour. He strode off the elevator, immediately finding McGee scrambling to his feet, worry written all over his face. "Word from DiNozzo, McGee?"

"No, boss. Ziva just called. Tony's not resurfaced yet. She says there's movement in the warehouse. They're packing up to move."

"Gear up," Gibbs ordered, securing his weapon and badge, watching McGee scramble for his own. He flipped open his cell phone, "The mission is a go. Five minutes, organize and move out." He stepped into the elevator, watching McGee sprint to catch up with him. "Let's go, McGee!"

The doors slid shut just as McGee tripped inside, Gibbs slamming his fist into the button, sending the elevator heading down to the parking garage. They jogged to their issued car, Gibbs immediately taking the driver's seat and speeding out of the garage. He was only vaguely aware of the additional Chargers following them, trying to keep up with Gibbs' erratic driving. There was no time for precautions. Every second counted.

It took fifteen minutes to reach Lakeside Drive, weaving through the heavier evening traffic as they fought their way through. Gibbs screeched to a halt directly outside of the repair shop, Ziva having already disposed of the guards.

"They will have been alerted to our location already, Gibbs," Ziva called, jogging over to them, "there is no time to pause."

He gestured for the agents to join them as they climbed from their respective vehicles, the team van carrying heavily armed men just arriving. He took his Kevlar vest from McGee, strapping it into place as he began to talk. "Move out, thirty seconds. Surround the warehouse, secure the perimeter. Subdue anyone inside. Intel suggests no more than ten civilians." He checked his gun, releasing the safety. "No casualties today, agents. Move out."

As had been practiced and laid out for a location extraction, the chosen agents made their way quickly down the drive as they split into groups of five to secure the warehouse, circling around either side of the building. Gibbs, McGee, and Ziva swept along in the middle, moving quickly to press their backs against the outside wall.

Gibbs nodded to her, glancing through the small window. "Two to the right," he whispered. "I'll cover."

Silently, she pushed open the door and checked the entrance before slipping inside, easily disabling the two guards, easing the second to the ground in a choke-hold. From the back, she could see the other agents moving inside, securing the first floor. She fell in behind Gibbs as he started up the stairs, McGee bringing up the rear, guns held at the ready.

They paused outside of the office on the second floor, the two junior agents moving to flank either side of the door. A firm, well placed kick from Gibbs sent the door flying open, the agents immediately covering the room, shocking the five men inside. A quick glance showed that the security system had been in the process of being disassembled for transport.

"NCIS," Gibbs announced, leveling his gun at the blond man standing behind the desk. "Don't move, Matthews."

At that instant, their eyes met, and a immediate shot followed, from one of the guards on the left side of the room. Gibbs found himself reeling back, catching a round in the shoulder. The gunshot sent the junior agents into action, aiming at the shooter and taking him down with well placed shots; injuring, not killing.

The shots continued, Matthews' guards retaliating for their fallen comrade. Matthews had taken shelter behind the desk as Gibbs took out two more of the guards in quick succession, McGee tapping the last with a shot to the shoulder and leg. Ziva moved swiftly into the room, kicking the weapons out of the reach of the groaning men.

"Boss?" McGee asked, holstering his gun. "You alright?"

Gibbs waved him quiet, stepping into the room, his gun settling in on their target. "Where's my agent, Matthews?"

"Agent Gibbs, I am guessing." A small smirk touched his lips. "Tony was right. You are very handy with a gun." He flinched as Gibbs buried a round in the desk just by his head.

"Consider that a warning. I'm not exactly seein' straight here, Matthews. The next one might not miss." His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened on his weapon. "_Where is my agent?"_

The blond man smiled serenely, glancing down at the floor with a nod. "I…am sorry, Agent Gibbs, but Tony…well, he lied to me. I do not like being lied to. Surely you understand." He gazed up into the intense eyes of the team leader, seemingly amused. "If he is not dead by now, he should surely be experiencing the most…unpleasant ride of his life."

A loud, agony-filled scream echoed faintly up the stairwell, drawing Gibbs' attention away from his target. "Ziva, cuff him. McGee, call an ambulance." He jogged from the room, making his way quickly down the stairs. His eyes landed immediately on the stairwell and he ran toward it. "Agents, with me!"

**In the Torture Room**

The numbing sensation had spread through his body and Tony could no longer feel his legs or arms. He had no strength, completely lethargic, no control over his motor skills. It felt as if he was being held down to the ground.

_Where the hell are you guys? _he thought. _I sent the 911. Help me._ Trying not to panic, he tried to focus his thoughts, attempting to raise himself up enough to crawl toward the door. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't move more than an inch or two, his head falling back heavily to the floor, tears pooling threateningly in his eyes. He couldn't remember ever feeling so helpless.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling dizziness overtake him When he blinked again, he found Gibbs leaning only inches above his face.

"B-b'ss?" he croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. "Th-tha-…" He couldn't manage to form the words 'thank God,' the sides of his mouth drawing as if he were having a stroke. The image shifted and disappeared.

The tears did fall then, slipping down from the corners of his eyes. Thoughts were beginning to race rapidly through his mind, each making less sense than the one before. He groaned, nauseous, his body involuntarily drawing up on itself, curling him into a fetal position. Shaking followed, slight at first, gradually worsening as he laid there on the cold, damp floor. He was chilled through to the bone; he didn't think he'd ever be warm again. Then he was burning up, fire racing through is veins.

Another groan dropped from his lips as he was hit with another wave of sickness, his stomach churning dangerously. He had no control over himself, his body involuntarily sick as it voided his lunch, continuing to wretch until long after he was emitting nothing but bile.

Long moments passed and he was lapsing in and out of consciousness, not able to tell how long he was out between each spell. Time no longer made sense and a haze had settled over him, bringing more hallucinations.

Pain came eventually, crawling over every inch of his body like horrid pricks. He was defenseless to fight it, his thoughts no longer his own. He couldn't even manage a prayer for help. He was at the mercy of the drugs coursing through his veins.

**Help is on the Way**

Gibbs sped down the second stairwell with three new agents on his heels, following where the sounds of screaming had came from. He held his gun before him, pacing the hallway as the agents checked the side rooms. Calls of "clear" echoed down the darkened hallway as they progressed, leaving Gibbs to focus in on the very last room to the right.

He pushed the door open carefully, immediately finding Tony lying on the floor in the midst of his own vomit, his body arching wildly as he seized, foaming at the mouth, his eyes wide open and rolling in their sockets.

Gibbs paused in the doorway, fearing they had been too late.

_-*Agent Gibbs turned to the men behind him, sending them sprinting for help.*-_

**tbc...**


	5. Hospital and Guilt

**A/N: Special thanks to those of you who have added alerts and reviewed! I love hearing from you and it keeps me going. Still short, but I'm being nagged to go through my things and choose what to donate to charity, lol. The joys of moving. :) Again, you're all awesome.**

_-*Gibbs slammed his phone closed.*-_

**In the Warehouse**

"Tony…" Gibbs managed, rushing forward and kneeling beside his agent as one of the other agents sped outside to bring the medics down as soon as they arrived. Carefully, the older agent shifted, pulling Tony up to cradle him against his chest, trying to make it easier for him to breathe. He kept strong arms around him, speaking quietly to him in an attempt to calm him. A quick scan of the room showed that Matthews had only tossed the empty syringe aside. He breathed a small sigh of relief. If Tony received help in time, Abby would be able to tell them what had been used.

Tony groaned again, fresh tears traveling down his cheeks as Gibbs held him upright. He had no sensation of feeling, no idea that he'd been lifted off of the cold ground where he'd laid in his own vomit. He couldn't tell that help had arrived. His body was numb to feeling, only experiencing the pain that tore through him from what he'd been injected with.

"It's alright, DiNozzo. We're here. I'm here," he whispered. "Didn't mean to be late." He checked the suffering agent's pulse, finding it racing. "C'mon, Tony. Help is on the way. Keep fightin'. That's an order, DiNozzo." He couldn't help but think back, remembering giving Tony a similar order when he'd been stricken with the plague. _At least,_ he thought, _we knew what we were dealin' with then._ He cringed as DiNozzo cried out again, lapsing into sobs.

"Boss!" McGee slid into the room, having broken into a sprint when he heard his partner cry out again. He stumbled, his eyes flitting rapidly over the floor. Tony's vomit. The syringe. The desk. The box. Time seemed to slow.

"ETA on that ambulance, McGee?" Gibbs shot back, looking up at the junior agent demandingly.

Tim was still lost in processing what must have happened in the room.

"McGee!"

"Uh, sorry, boss," McGee stuttered, snapping back to himself. "Ambulance should be here in two minutes." He looked down at his partner. "Is Tony okay, boss?"

"Dunno, McGee," came the answer as Gibbs again pressed his fingers to the pulsing vein in Tony's neck. "Go get a kit. Start processing _now._ Get that syringe to Abby."

"Yes, boss." McGee ran from the room, leaving them alone again.

It seemed to take an eternity before he could hear the paramedics rushing down the dank hallway, following the agent who had gone up to lead them down. Within seconds, they were pulling Gibbs away from his agent, checking vitals and talking quickly with each other. The senior agent blinked, trying to follow the conversation as they prepped Tony for transport.

Tim pushed through the door as they were lifting Tony onto a stretcher. The senior field agent had resolved to whimpers, his eyes clamped closed, not fighting the restraints they had put him in to keep him from falling off the stretcher if he fell into another fit. McGee watched as he was carried past, one of the paramedics turning to Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs, you need to come with us." He pointed at the oozing wound that had soaked Gibbs' shirt through.

"I'm fine," he insisted, wavering a bit. He'd lost quite a bit of blood. "Need to finish up here."

"Agent Gibbs, I'm gonna have to insist." The medic took his arm, guiding him to the door.

"McGee," he said, turning resolutely back to the room, shaking off the medic's hold, "Finish up here and get back to Abby with that needle." He glared impatiently at the man trying to guide him out the door. "Quit grabbin'. I'm coming." He disappeared out the door, leaving the young agent standing amidst the mess in the room.

**Bethesda Naval Hospital**

Gibbs scowled at the nurse as she taped the IV in his arm, sending her scurrying from the room, anxious to get away from him. The wound had been through and through, a high powered round. It had bruised the skin around the entrance wound, requiring them to put his arm in a sling after they had stitched his injury.

He was annoyed to have been pulled from the case to treat the wound, regardless of how much blood he had lost. It wasn't that McGee was incompetent, he simply did not trust the job to anyone else.

"Jethro, you have got to quit antagonizing these poor nurses," Dr. Mallard scolded as he stepped into the room, shaking his finger at the man on the bed. "You've been shot, my boy, and they're just doing their job."

"I know that, Ducky," Gibbs defended irritably. "DiNozzo went down on my watch. Have you seen him, Ducky? How is he?"

"They're working on stabilizing him, Jethro. One of the nurses is bringing me a blood sample to take to Abigail. These tests can take so long." He sighed. "Young Anthony appears to be in quite a lot of pain."

"Matthews wanted me to think he was dead."

"Yes, well," Ducky looked squarely at his friend, "had you not arrived when you did, I'm sure that would have been the case." He looked toward the door, hearing conversation in the hallway. "Let that IV drip finish, Jethro, and leave the poor nurses alone. When it's finished, I believe the doctor will let you go. Anthony is on the second floor if you'd like to send someone to sit with him."

"Thanks, Duck." He offered the doctor a half-smile as he left the room, moving to take the sample from the nurse who had stopped just outside the door.

It took half an hour to finish the IV drip before the doctor came in to sign him out. He moved up to the second floor, requesting Tony's room number at the nurses' station.

"I'm sorry, sir," she stated softly, "Mr. DiNozzo still isn't stable. He can't have visitors right now." She checked his file. "Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes."

"You're listed as his next of kin."

"I'm also his team leader."

She nodded. "Give me just a moment with the doctor and we'll let you go in." She moved around the desk and made her way down the hall, leaving him to stand at the counter.

**NCIS Headquarters**

Tim pushed the elevator button to take him to Abby's lab, holding his evidence kit tightly by his side. She was waiting for him when the elevator doors opened, bouncing anxiously from foot to foot, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her face was pale.

"Timmy!" she exclaimed, reaching for the kit. "Gimme."

He handed it to her, watching her hurry back into the lab, spreading the evidence on the table. "Gibbs wants you to call the hospital as soon as you find out what's in the syringe." Her music had been turned down low.

"I'm running Tony's blood now," she said, taking the bagged needle and bottle from the kit. "Ducky got here about five minutes ago." She slid on a pair of gloves before taking the syringe from the bag.

"He tried to send a text, Abby," he held up the phone, his face crumbling. "He hid it beside the stairs so we could track him. He must have…spent the whole time thinking we weren't coming for him."

"Don't be silly, Tim," she swabbed a sample from the inside of the bottle and syringe. "Tony wouldn't blame you for this. He was obviously in a dead zone." She looked up at him as she prepared the samples, watching him stare down at the phone screen.

"Five hours. He tried to send it five hours ago…just before he got back to the warehouse with Matthews." His hand shook. "His cover was blown while they were out."

"Then you should go find out what happened, Timmy," she suggested, placing the samples in the mass spec.

He nodded absently, laying the phone down by her computer. He started as she wrapped him in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"It's not your fault, Tim," she whispered, looking up at him intently. "It isn't, okay? You have to believe that."

Reluctantly, he nodded, returning her hug.

"Now, Tony needs us, McGee. We can feel sorry for ourselves later." She squeezed him before stepping back.

"Thanks, Abs," he mumbled, turning to the door, his mind racing. He made it back onto the elevator, leaning against the wall as it lifted him up toward the bullpen. His legs numbly moved him back to his desk and he sat down heavily in his chair. He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. Gibbs had been shot and Tony had been shot full of some sort of drugs. Things could have been worse, but he felt as if he'd been the one to drop the ball.

Resolutely, he pulled open the gps tracker on his computer and the overlaying program that had marked where Tony had stopped while he was out with Matthews. If something had happened to compromise Tony's cover, it had to have happened while he was out. If it hadn't been something he'd said, then someone had spotted him and tipped Matthews off. Tony was a professional. Tim was inclined to believe the latter.

**000010000**

Abby hit the speakerphone as her lab phone rang. "Gibbs!" she answered before he had a chance to speak. "How are you? How's your arm? How's Tony? Ducky didn't tell me much. I'm worried, Gibbs! Tell me!"

"Abs, slow down," he growled, "I'm fine. Tony's…hangin' in there. Tell me what you got." The mass spec machine dinged behind her. He waited as he heard her moving about the lab.

"It's a cocktail, Gibbs. High concentrations…pcp, lsd, heroin…there's a list. There's an unknown compound here…looks like a time release agent. I'll fax it to the hospital." She moved over to the fax machine. "Gibbs, the concentrations in here…if it doesn't kill him…" she trailed off as the machine sucked the paper through.

"I know, Abs. Good work." She could hear the renewed tension in his voice.

"You're staying with him, right, Gibbs?" she demanded.

"Yeah, Abs. I'm not goin' anywhere."

_-*He hung his head, feeling overwhelmed.*-_

**tbc...**


	6. Confessions from a Girlfriend

**A/N: Again, special thanks to all the reviewers and adders. You all make my day :) This is a shorter chapter, but it stands alone. More to come. (Sorry if there are any mistakes here. I kinda type in my sleep. It's when I do my best work, lol).**

_-*Ziva laid her head against the bed, a single tear falling down her cheek.*-_

Gibbs sat beside Tony's bed, his eyes watching the finally resting form of his agent. The younger agent had been seizing and screaming, in intense pain since he'd arrived at the hospital. None of the measures they'd taken to help him had seemed to work. It had taken them an hour to get an IV drip into his arm to counteract the drugs that were flowing through his veins, finally identified by Abby. Gibbs' stomach clenched every time Tony arched up off the bed, screaming in pain, begging for relief.

Occasional whimpers escaped Tony's lips and his eyes fluttered rapidly under his eyelids. The doctors had assured Gibbs that the worst of the experience was over, but the extent of the damage couldn't be determined. The young agent had been drugged for over four hours before they'd gotten there.

Several hours passed before Gibbs' phone rang, and he flipped it open, listening to McGee's hurried explanation. "Slow down, McGee."

"_Sorry, boss,"_ he answered. "_I retraced Tony's gps signal and hacked the surveillance cams where he and Matthews were stopped for more than a minute. Nothing interesting until the last stop, don't think it was meant to be the last stop."_

"Spit it out, Tim. What'd you find?"

"_Petty Officer Sasha Corbin."_

"Good work, McGee. Take Ziva and bring her in." He paused. "Any closer on Matthews' alias?'

"_Still workin' on that, boss. How's Tony?"_

"Resting, Tim. Go find our petty officer. Call me when you find her." He snapped the phone shut, rubbing his fingers against the corners of his eyes. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, he was tired, stressed, and worried. He found himself nodding off in the uncomfortable chair before the next hour had passed, his phone held loosely in his good hand.

The phone rang again two hours later, Ziva alerting Gibbs that they'd picked up their charge.

"Come take my place here, Ziva," he ordered, not waiting for an answer before he hung up. He stood, pacing slowly about the room_, _lost in his thoughts and needing to stay awake.

"Agent?"

He spun around, finding a young, well dressed woman standing in the doorway, her wide eyes on him. "Ma'am?"

She glanced over at the bed. "How is he?" Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"Resting," he replied, taking a few steps toward her. "Who are you?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm Jessica," she nervously bit her lip. "Jessica Luc. I'm Tony's girlfriend." She adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. "You must be Agent Gibbs. He…he talks about you all the time."

He gestured for her to come in and take the chair, studying her carefully. She seemed a little too clean cut for Tony's normal tastes. "How did you find out Tony was here?" he asked, kneeling beside her.

"I got worried…He said he was working on a case, but he always calls, ya know?" She cleared her throat, her eyes darting back to the bed before returning to the man beside her. "I had a bad feeling…so I called here and found out they'd admitted him earlier. He…he hasn't talked to you about me, has he?"

"No, ma'am, he hasn't."

She nodded. "Despite everything, he manages to be a very private person." With a shaking hand, she tucked a loose strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. "You…you're okay, right?" Her eyes danced over the bandages and blood on his shoulder and shirt. "Was he shot too?" Her lip quivered.

"It was drugs," Gibbs admitted gently, "he wasn't shot. He'll be alright, but it's gonna be a rough road for a bit. It was dangerous, and Tony knew what he was getting into."

She nodded again, biting her lip. "He was right." She laughed nervously, twisting the hem of her skirt in her shaking hands. "I thought…I thought I could be one of those women who marries a cop and can spend each day waiting for a phone call instead of having her man come home. I tried to tell him I could handle it. He knew better."

"Tony's a smart man." He patted her knee, favoring her with a sympathetic smile. "And I know he wouldn't wanna hurt you. You guys have discussed marriage, huh?"

"Yeah," she managed, wiping at her eyes. "Seeing him like this though,…I know he was right." She met Gibbs' eyes again. "How can I tell him that without seeming like a bitch?"

He took her hand and squeezed it slightly. "He'll be thankful you're being honest with him, Jessica. You can stay with him for a few minutes if you want. Another agent will be here to sit with him soon."

A tremulous smile touched her lips and she sniffled. "Thank you, Agent Gibbs."

He patted her knee one last time and pushed himself to his feet, turning back to the door. His eye caught Ziva standing just outside of the door, out of view of the room. He moved out to her as Jessica moved slowly to the bed.

"Who is she?" she asked bluntly, her arms crossed defensively across her chest.

"The woman who would be Mrs. DiNozzo," he replied, "if she wasn't scared of his job. Corbin say anything?"

"No. She is not talking."

"Watch him," Gibbs ordered. "I'll send McGee in for the morning watch."

Quietly, the Israeli stepped into the room, leaning against the wall, regarding the blonde woman leaning over Tony. She crossed her arms back over her chest, her eyes narrowed. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she'd never felt before and it confused her.

"You must be Ziva," Jessica murmured, looking up through bright eyes at the woman who'd joined her in the room.

"I am." Her fingers twitched against her arms.

Jessica smiled sadly, running her fingers lightly through Tony's hair. "He talks about you all the time, too." Another tear fell down her cheek. "At night, when he has nightmares, he calls for you."

"Why do you tell me this?" Ziva asked quietly, uncomfortable.

Jessica laughed, stepping back from the bedside. "I've been with him for almost a year, and never once have I heard him ask for me like that." She picked up her purse, looking Ziva squarely in the eye. "All this time, I've just been standing in for you. Take…take care of him for me, Ziva." Quietly, she left the room, leaving the stunned Israeli standing behind her.

Trembling, Ziva moved to Tony, pulling the chair up to sit directly by the bed. She stared at the man in front of her as if she was seeing him for the first time. Jealousy. That is what she'd been feeling. Jealousy toward the woman who stood between her and Tony. How could she tell Tony she felt the same way about him? She laid her head against the bed, a single tear falling down her cheek.

_-*Unashamed, Ziva allowed herself to cry.*-_

**tbc...**


	7. Making Connections

**A/N: More thanks for the reads/adds/reviews. If you're reading, I'd love to hear from you. :) Let me know where I can improve. I don't bite :) (hard).**

_-*Ziva closed and rested her head back against the door.*-_

**NCIS Headquarters**

Gibbs stood with McGee in observation, going over Sasha Corbin's file as they watched her in the interrogation room. She fidgeted uncomfortably at the table, her eyes darting anxiously around the room. They had left her sitting there for a better part of an hour and the waiting was getting to her, just as they had wanted. This was her second time in the interrogation room and she knew they had a reason to bring her in.

"Looks like she's ready, boss," McGee murmured, watching the petty officer scratch nervously at her arms.

"Yup," he agreed, stepping out of the observation room and making his way into interrogation. He ignored her startled jump as he paced around the table, pulling his chair out as he threw the file down on the table. Silently, he sat down, pulling the file back to him and resuming his study.

"I know my rights, Agent Gibbs," she finally said, the minutes having ticked by in silence. "You can't keep me here."

"Somewhere you have to be, Petty Officer?" he asked quietly, looking up at her through squinted eyes. He chuckled as she looked away, shaking her head nervously. "Actually, I don't blame you for bein' anxious. Why don't you tell me about meeting with Steve Matthews earlier today?"

"I…I don't know what you're talking about, sir," she stammered, clasping her hands together in front of her.

He laid a few stills from the surveillance camera in front of her, two close ups of her face, one as she had leaned into the car, and one of her running away from the scene. "See, I have an excellent computer guy who was able to find out exactly where you've been today. We know you blew Agent DiNozzo's cover when he was out with Matthews on the rounds today." He leaned forward, looking directly into her eyes. "There's no use lyin' to me. DiNozzo's not dead. There's an agent with him right now taking his statement and I'm sure Tony's gonna remember your face real well."

"I was shocked!" she exclaimed. "That's all. I said his name before I knew what I was doing! I didn't mean…I didn't mean to put him in danger." Her eyes darted back and forth between Gibbs' own intense eyes, searching for a bit of mercy.

"Oh, I think you meant to. Circumstantial evidence puts you at the scene of Petty Officer Tabbot's murder. _You_ are how everything ties back to Matthews and you _knew_ that DiNozzo would piece that together if Matthews didn't take of him. _You were covering your own six, petty officer._" His eyes were narrowed, daring her to deny the accusations.

She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. "He'll kill me," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide. "He'll kill me if I tell!"

"He's in custody, Corbin!" Gibbs snapped irritably, feeling the throb course through his shoulder in reminder. "Things will be a lot easier for you if you confess. Can't say JAG is gonna take it easy on you…murdering a petty officer and putting an agent in danger like you did." He placed an autopsy photo of Petty Officer Jason Tabbot on the table over the other pictures. "He was twenty-two years old, Sasha. Left behind a pregnant fiancé."

"Matthews…he told me to take care of the problem. He was gonna kill my mom! I put a bullet in his head and I didn't look back. It was Matthews' gun." She wiped at her eyes, rocking slightly in her chair. "I was in over my head…Matthews found me and offered me a way to make some extra cash. Started by having me pick up some small deliveries. I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late." A long sigh dropped from her lips. "When I found out, I tried to leave…and he took me down to that room in the warehouse…" a visible shudder tore through her body. "I…I found it easier to just do what he said. Less pain." She looked up at Gibbs pleadingly. "I was selfish. I swear, Tony just spooked me…and I ran."

"What were you taking from Matthews?" he asked.

"I push drugs for Matthews. He…he picked up the payment and was delivering more for me to sell."

He slid a pad and pen toward her, gathering the pictures to put back into the file before standing. "Statement," he ordered. "Sign it. Someone will be in to take you back to holding when you're done."

"Agent Gibbs," she said quietly, her pen poised above the paper, "what's gonna happen to me?"

"That's not for me to decide, Petty Officer Corbin," he responded, snapping the door shut behind him. He handed Corbin's file to McGee as the young agent stepped outside the observation room and they walked together back toward the bullpen. "I want all the information you can dig up on Matthews. Get Abby to help if you have to, then go home and get some sleep, McGee. You're taking morning shift at the hospital."

"Yes, boss."

**000010000**

Gibbs stood with McGee in front of the big screen as the junior agent went over what he'd found. It was well after midnight now and fatigue was starting to catch them both.

"Took some digging, but finally found Matthews, boss." McGee snapped a file up onto the screen. "Ivan Patrinov. Born November 22, 1966. There's not a lot on Ivan. Dropped off the radar in 1987. By then, he'd banked millions in human trafficking. His accounts were wiped clean and Patrinov disappeared. He showed up in London in 1995 as Ivan Parker, dropping the human trafficking for dealing with stolen cars and smuggling drugs." He clicked through the slides. "Gone in 2000 to resurface in 2005 as Steve Matthews here in the States."

"How'd he get in with naval operations to start smuggling drugs?" Gibbs asked, his eyes squinted at the screen.

"Intel suggests connections with several South American drug cartels, one major name showing up: Alejandro Juarez."

"We've had eyes on him for a year."

"Looks like Matthews was one of his major pushers here in the States." He started as he felt Gibbs clap him on the shoulder.

"Nice job, Tim," he murmured, turning to his agent. "Punch out for the night. I'll see you after lunch tomorrow."

McGee moved to his desk to gather his things as Gibbs strode off, leaving him alone in the bullpen. Quietly, he made his way down to the lab, finding Abby napping as she leaned against the desk, a scan running in the background on her computer. He moved up behind her, running his hand lightly across her back. She stirred, looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes.

"Hey, sleepy," he said softly, offering her a small smile.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, checking the progress of the facial recognition scan she'd been running since McGee had left, trying to determine where Matthews might have been. "You tell him, Timmy?"

"Yeah. It's time to go home, Abby. Want a lift?" he asked.

Groggily, she nodded, sliding off of the lab stool, holding onto his arm for support. They left the building together and she curled up in the front seat of his car, watching him as he pulled out of the parking garage.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?

**At the Hospital**

Ziva wiped at her eyes, sitting back in her chair and pulling her knees up under her chin. Jessica's revelations had hit her hard. She'd never allowed herself to entertain an actual relationship with her partner, keeping her feelings locked tightly away and settling for teasing him instead of telling him how she really felt. He'd came after her even after she'd lost her trust in him when he'd kill Rivkin.

She lost herself in thought as the sounds of the machines lulled her. She thought about what had brought her to where she sat now. Without a doubt, she knew she wouldn't be sitting there by his side if he hadn't been so persistent, finding where she had been taken after the team had left her behind in Tel Aviv. What Tony didn't know was how she sometimes woke herself up calling for him, feeling Saleem's hands on her again, hearing his voice, seeing him in her nightmares. He didn't know that a big part of her had been trapped in a vicious cycle of self-hate and helplessness.

She'd found herself moving from relationship to relationship, trying to fill the void that she felt inside. She rarely went home alone, not wanting to have time to herself. That's when the thoughts always came. That's when she was the most vulnerable.

Frustrated, she ran her hands through her hair, resting her forehead against her knees, uncertainty tearing through her. Tony had hidden a relationship from her, from the team, for at least a year and she couldn't figure why. He'd always bragged about his conquests before. What other proof did Jessica have besides Tony's nightmares? Saying the wrong thing could drive him away completely.

The cycle continued, keeping her preoccupied until McGee came to relieve her a few hours after dawn. Wordlessly, she left the hospital, driving home and walking absently up to her apartment. She let herself in the door and closed it, resting her head back against the hard, cool surface.

_-*Conflicted, she stumbled to her room and onto the bed, burying her face in her pillow.*-_

**tbc...**


	8. In Interrogation

**A/N: Continued thanks to the new favorites and comments. Sorry it took so long to get this out, but as always, I've been terribly busy. Here's hoping you enjoy, and I hope to hear from you in reviews! 3**

_-*Jessica smiled sadly before turning to go.*-_

Gibbs walked into Tony's hospital room just after noon, noting that his senior field agent was again curled into a fetal position, trembling and shaking profusely. McGee was pale and seemed anxious, standing to greet his boss as he walked into the room. Gibbs went to the bedside, placing his hand gently against Tony's forehead, frowning.

"What's goin' on, McGee?" he demanded quietly. "How long has he been like this?"

"Nurse says detox," he answered, "and he's just gonna have to suffer through them. They're not giving him anything else." He sighed, rubbing his palm over the stubble on his cheek. "Started not long after I got here this morning. With the dose he took, though, boss…I don't think it's detox. They told me to watch him."

"He's burning up." He stepped out into the hall, his heated conversation with the nearest nurse carrying back into the room. She came hurrying into the room, checking DiNozzo before replacing his IV drip, starting a new round of medicine to counteract the drugs. Gibbs watched her work in silence, brooding in the doorway until he was satisfied there was nothing else she could do.

"Call me if you need anything else," she managed, ducking by the intimidating agent on her way out the door.

McGee stood, watching Gibbs resume his place by Tony's bed. He couldn't help but notice that the boss seemed overly protective and aggressive.

"Rough night, boss?" he dared to question.

"Yes, McGee," he replied. It had been a rough night. After tossing and turning, hearing Tony's screams echo through his mind, he'd ended up in the basement, nursing a mason jar of bourbon and flipping through the case file. It had done little to distract him, instead fueling the fire in his belly. He was angry and guilty; he knew he should have found a way to have someone on the inside with Tony during the op. He didn't feel the need to elaborate as the young agent stood there, regarding him in silence.

"Interviewing Matthews today?" he asked instead, pulling the chair closer to DiNozzo's bedside.

"Yeah," came the answer as Gibbs checked his agent over again. "Duck should be here any minute." _I want his opinion on this anyway,_ he thought, watching another bead of sweat trail down from Tony's forehead.

He sat down in the chair, opening the file he'd brought with him and flipping through it to keep his mind occupied. The file contained photographs and notated documents following Steve Matthews from his early years of trafficking. McGee moved to the door, leaning against the doorframe. Ducky was just exiting off the elevator, his hat and jacket in his hands.

"Good afternoon, Timothy, Jethro," he greeted as Gibbs stood. "How is Anthony?"

"Not good, Duck," Gibbs answered, watching as the older man moved over to the bed, checking Tony over.

"Yes, well, it will take another day at least to counteract the drugs. From the amount he was given, I'm quite surprised he's doing as well as he is, Jethro. I'll take care of our boy. You go take care of Matthews."

"You call me if anything changes," he ordered quietly, striding out the door. "McGee, with me."

**000010000**

McGee and Ziva stood in observation, looking down at Matthews and his lawyer as they sat in the interrogation room. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest and she had backed into the corner near the equipment, partially hiding in the shadows. McGee stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

Gibbs hadn't entered interrogation yet, and he wasn't in the observation room with his agents. He'd sent them ahead and disappeared into the elevator, leaving them to study their subject as he sat leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the table, a slight smirk touching his lips. He was cocky and self-assured, his lawyer seeming cowed in the same room with him. The balding lawyer kept his hands laid relaxed against the table, careful not to give anything away. Neither of the men spoke.

"What do you think?" McGee asked, glancing at Ziva from the corner of his eye.

"I…have seen many like him," came the eventual answer as she regarded Matthews. "We have enough to hold him without an interrogation." She seemed on edge and irritable, but remained in the shadows, keeping her face out of view.

McGee frowned. "Everything alright, Ziva?"

"I am fine." She pushed away from the wall as Gibbs entered the observation room, his face flushed slightly. "Gibbs."

He handed the folder to her. "You're in first, Da-veed." He cleared his throat, jerking his head toward the door.

She raised an inquisitive brow, but nodded, tucking her discomfort away. Gibbs was obviously embarrassed about something and he wouldn't meet her eyes. Quietly, she ducked out the door and moved into the interrogation room, ignoring the sinister grin that spread over Matthews' face. She pulled the chair out, spinning it backward and sinking down into it, propping her elbows on the table with the file laying in front of her. She stared at the man in front of her, her fingers playing absently with the edges of the folder on the table.

"I must say that this…this is a pleasant surprise," Matthews said, chuckling softly. "I suppose your boss is still recovering."

"No," she replied, returning a taunting smile of her own, "he simply does not feel you are worth his time"

His smile faded.

"You are not worth my time either," she continued, "and this is simply a formality. We have enough evidence to lock you away for life, Mr. Patrinov." She watched as he looked away for a moment before settling his focus back on her again. "You like to think you are important, yes? It is powerful, intoxicating. You demand…fear and respect from those beneath you."

"I am important," he countered softly, "your _Agent DiNozzo_ can attest to that, if he still lives."

"Oh, he lives," she replied, checking herself, masking her anger by flipping open the folder to reveal the research McGee had found. "You are very sloppy. An important man, a powerful man, would not have been so easy to find. From what I can tell, you have always been second on the ladder, always answering to someone else."

He flinched, clenching his fist, but was quick to resume his casual pose. "You taunt me."

A small, amused laugh dropped from her lips, complete with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "I am simply saying that Mr. Juarez is not going to be happy that you blew his operation here. Your mistrust of people gave you very little protection and left you wide open for us to take you down with very little fight."

"You know so much," he glared, "what is it you want from me?"

"Perhaps your side of the story. It will be your only chance. Once you leave this room, there will be nothing else until your trial."

"I w-would advise you n-not to t-talk," the lawyer stammered awkwardly, sending a panicked glance toward her.

"I, personally, do not find you at all threatening," she pressed, her eyes narrowed a bit.

"Tony would disagree with you, I am sure." Another chuckle escaped him.

Anger flared to life in her then and her eyes blazed, unable to hide what she felt from him. She stood, kicking her chair to the side.

"I see I have found your weakness." He did not flinch as she grabbed for his wrist, her grip tight.

"How d…"

"Ziva." Gibbs had opened the door and was standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

Reluctantly, she dropped her hold, stepping back from the table as Gibbs let her go. She strode out of the room, carefully closing the door behind her, leaving the older man in the room.

**000010000**

McGee followed Gibbs back up to the bullpen where Ziva was already sitting at her desk, staring blankly at Tony's empty desk. The younger agent filed by in silence as Gibbs stopped in front of her, waiting for her to look up at him.

"My office," he said quietly, moving to the elevator, noting that she had stood and was following him. They started down to the parking garage before Gibbs reached up, smacking the emergency stop button, leaving them hanging just below the floor they had left. He turned to her, watching her cross her arms defensively. "You're not the only one that wants to hurt him, Ziva. Can't be pissed at ya for that."

"I was out of line," she stated flatly, looking determinedly at the floor.

"Everything okay with you?"

"I am fine, Gibbs," she looked up at him, nodding once, "there is just too much on my mind."

"'Kay," he conceded, starting the elevator again, sending it back to the bullpen. "Get your head on straight, Zee. I need you focused."

They stepped off the elevator together and made their way back to their desks, taking their seats without another word. Paperwork followed, McGee following Matthews' paper trail as Ziva worked on the report, getting everything put in order for the trial.

**At the Hospital**

Ziva stepped out of the elevator, walking slowly down the hall to Tony's room. Ducky had moved to the window, allowing Jessica some privacy as she stood next to the obviously distraught agent. Tony was shaking, his eyes clamped shut as he curled onto his side, mumbling and groaning against the pillow. Ziva's eyes locked on Ducky's as she made her way into the room. He motioned her over.

"How long has he been this way, Ducky?" she managed.

"Most of the day, my dear girl," he answered, removing his glasses and rubbing wearily at his eyes. "I have been watching him closely. This cocktail that Matthews gave Tony has had a very profound effect. I must admit, I've not seen anything like it before, and that's saying a considerable amount. There were some not so proud days to my youth, I'm afraid, and…"

"Ducky," she interjected softly, looking back at the bed.

"Ah, yes," he sighed, patting her arm. "Do forgive the ramblings of an old man." He offered her a small smile, moving a bit closer to her. "I understand, Ziva., that look in your eye. Whatever demons our boy is facing, he calls for you when it's at its worst."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "How am I supposed to feel about that, Ducky?"

"After all you've been through, you think you don't deserve to be happy?"

"What about Gibbs' rules?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

"I can't answer for you there, Ziva." He looked up at her through sympathetic eyes. "Do what you feel is right. We'll go from there."

She sighed heavily, startled to see Jessica moving over toward them. "Good evening," Ziva greeted softly.

"Hey," she replied, looking Ziva fully in the eyes. "I know I dropped a lot on you yesterday. That wasn't fair of me. I'm sorry." She offered the agent a small, apologetic smile. "I didn't want you to think I was just…leaving him with you. I don't plan on leaving him while he's down, ya know. I don't want him thinking the wrong thing. We've had a good year together."

Ziva shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say to the woman in front of her.

"He'll probably be upset when he finds out what I told you. Agent Gibbs has some pretty strict rules from what I'm told."

"Mostly common sense," Ziva finally offered.

"He told me you didn't like to discuss your feelings." A slight smirk touched her lips and she nodded.

"I do not believe that wearing my heart on my shirt will make a difference," she retorted shortly. "Besides, I was not raised to share. The team is trying to…retrain me, but I am stubborn."

"That's understandable. You were Mossaud, weren't you?"

The Israeli nodded, briefly looking away. "_Ziva…"_ She looked around, confused.

"Ladies, I believe I shall retire for the evening," Ducky interrupted gently, giving them each a smile before moving away, checking Tony one last time before exiting the room.

"I was Mossaud, yes," she forced herself to say, "and this team is my family now. I do not…I do not believe I am comfortable with changing anything. If I were to be with Tony, it could compromise Gibbs and McGee. That is not something I could do."

"Just…don't decide until you've had a chance to sit down and seriously talk to Tony, okay?" Jessica insisted. "I _know_ I'm right. I see the look in his eyes when he talks about you. He _lights up_, Ziva. He's like a completely different person. To be honest, I was a bit jealous at first, but then I realized…who am I to stand in the way of what's supposed to be? I told you, I've just been borrowing your place for a while. I can't keep myself in a relationship when it was never meant for me in the first place." She looked imploringly at the Israeli in front of her. "You can understand that, right?"

Reluctantly, Ziva nodded again, sighing softly as she looked over at the bed. "I understand, I am just not sure what to do with the information."

They stood in silence for a long while, both women watching Tony. The steady rhythm of the machines was reassuring. Jessica excused herself as her cell phone rang, taking a few steps away as she slid the blackberry from her pocket.

Ziva found herself distracted by her own thoughts, her mind drifting back to what she'd heard before. She had to have been imagining things.

"I'm sorry," Jessica supplied, lifting her purse from the window sill, dropping her phone into it. "I've been called back in. I gotta run."

"Jessica," Ziva began, furrowing her brow, "thank you for talking with me."

"My pleasure."

"What is it that you do, by the way?"

"I'm a professor. Literature and drama. We're finalizing our latest drama production and there's been a snag I have to smooth out." She shouldered her purse then, smiling sadly as she turned to go.

_-*Ziva watched the woman go, her eyes drifting back to Tony as she lost herself in thought again.*-_

**tbc**


	9. Recovering

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the positive reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying. Please note, my posts may become more and more infrequent over the next month or so, but I will do my best to keep you in steady supply of updates. I will be traveling out of the country on the 3rd**** of May, so expect some slight delays. As always, thanks for reading and for the wonderful reviews.**

~*_He smiled, laying back on the bed.*~_

"_Ziva…_"

Ziva looked around the inside of the car, her eyes narrowed in confusion. The whispering had become more frequent and it was familiar to her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. Gibbs stared at her in the rearview mirror, pulling up to their crime scene. The others were up and out of the car, moving toward the Lieutenant's house before she stirred, shaking herself and scrambling to catch up with them.

They flashed their badges at the LEOs inside, spreading apart to begin logging the evident.

"Lieutenant Harrington," the first responder offered, motioning at the dead body on the living room floor. "Wife is in the upstairs bedroom. One gunshot wound to the chest. Lt. Harrington took one to the head. Apparently the latter was self inflicted."

"McGee, upstairs. Ziva, down here with Ducky," Gibbs ordered, moving away with the police officers.

The team spread apart, collecting evidence and snapping photographs as Ducky and Palmer handled removing the bodies from the room. The scene was less than an hour old, and an apparent murder-suicide. Within another hour, the team was headed back to NCIS headquarters to go through the electronic and forensics trail.

Ziva seated herself at her desk roughly around the same time McGee slid into his chair, Gibbs heading down to the lab to deliver the evidence to Abby. McGee immediately opened up a browser, searching for motive in the financial, phone, and social records of the dead lieutenant and his wife. This left Ziva tracing down medical records and service reports from the base.

At the end of the day, they had reached a general consensus that there had been no foul play, it was a murder-suicide. They were left simply finding the motive. Gibbs dismissed Ziva earlier than McGee, allowing her to head to the hospital to sit with Tony.

She drove a little more sedately than usual, managing to pull into a parking place rather than her customary spot halfway on the sidewalk. She nodded to the agent posted outside the door, dismissing him before she entered Tony's room. Carefully, she checked Tony over, relieved that he had found a moment of peaceful rest in the midst of coming down off of the drugs. The past few days she'd visited, she'd been greeted by his screams of agony. True to Jessica's words, she'd heard him call out for her several times and her heart ached that she couldn't help.

She pulled the chair closer to the bed, squeezing his hand, letting him know she was there. He didn't seem to notice her presence and she sat back heavily in the chair, gazing up blankly at the wall.

"You know, Tony, I never knew how quiet the office could be without you there," she attempted to joke, finding her voice cracking, her chin quivering despite her best efforts to contain her emotion. She rolled her eyes and worried her bottom lip, ashamed of her weakness. "I come here and I sit with you every day, _every day, _Tony, and I have watched you suffer. I feel as if I am responsible. If I had called Gibbs earlier, you would not be here now." She ran her thumb gently over the back of his hand. "You would not be here and I would not be…where I am." She exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. "I feel…as if I am losing my grip on reality. My work is…is…is messy and I have made mistakes I never would have made before in the field." A small whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it. "I can _feel _him coming back, Tony…and I do not feel strong enough to…stop him…without you."

It was hard for her to admit weakness, and even harder to admit that she was hurting. She felt guilty for talking to Tony about it, too, even though he probably would never remember. He laid before her, suffering, and here she was complaining to him. She kicked herself, sighing and settling back in her chair to wait.

As the evening passed, she found herself lulled into a light sleep, trying to force the invading whispers from her mind. They were more frequent now and she was determined to ignore them, instead forcing her body to rest, focusing on the sound of the heart monitor by Tony's bed.

She was hardly aware of the others who passed in and out of the room, nurses and doctors making their rounds and checking on the still-unconscious agent. He hadn't woken since they'd brought him in over three weeks ago. She merely cracked her eyes to observe each person for a moment before drifting off again. They had very little to worry about. Matthews was secure and he wouldn't be moved until his arraignment the following week.

"Zee?"

She started, sitting up as she felt Tony's hand squeeze hers. His voice was small and weak, and he squinted at her through half-closed eyes. She helped him with a drink of water, watching him carefully as he sank back, winded. She smiled slightly at him, "Welcome back to the land of the living, Tony."

"How long…?" he managed, trailing off, his eyes searching hers.

"Three weeks."

He groaned, attempting to set up, trying to push her hand aside as she pressed him back. "Matthews?"

"He is behind bars, Tony. You did an excellent job. We found Tabbot's killer, too, thanks to you."

He seemed to relax a bit then, looking up at her through tired eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like…I've been hit by a truck," he confessed, taking mental stock of himself. His body felt heavy and he didn't have the strength move more than his head. Gratefully, he accepted another drink of water. "How long…have you been here?"

"Every evening," she said with a tiny smile. "Relax, Tony. I will go tell the nurse you are awake. They will want to know."

Reluctantly, he let go of her hand, staring up at the ceiling as she brought the nurse in to check him over. The nurse fussed over him, asking him questions, adjusting his IV, testing his reflexes. Ziva stepped into the hallway, pulling her cell phone out to call Gibbs. He would be happy to know his agent was awake.

It was a long while before she was satisfied enough to back out of the room, leaving them alone again. He swallowed over the lump in his throat, still staring resolutely up at the ceiling.

She reentered the room and sank back down in her seat, gazing over at her partner. He was silent for a long while.

"She was here, wasn't she?" he finally asked, turning his head to look over at her, leaving her no room to wonder about who he meant.

"Yes." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "She seems nice, your girlfriend."

He made a non-committal sound, looking over at her, his brow slightly furrowed as if in thought. "You guys talk?"

"Of course, Tony," she replied, "she is worried about you, too. When she did not hear from you, she came here to check and found you. If you had told one of us about her, we could have kept her from worrying so much." She couldn't keep the accusatory tone from her voice and he picked up on it easily. "Why did you not tell us about her?"

He looked back up at the ceiling, sighing heavily. "I dunno, Ziva." _I didn't want to tell you, _he thought. _It should have been you._

"You should be resting, Tony. We can discuss all this when you are stronger."

He looked back over at her, considering her carefully for a long moment, causing her to raise an inquisitive brow. He'd had some strange dreams while he'd been out, feeling very real under the effects of the drugs. Many had been frightening. In many of them, he'd watched her die and he'd been unable to get to her to help.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, sitting forward, taking his hand.

Wordlessly, he looked down at their hands, feeling reassurance flow through him. He glanced back up, his eyes darting between hers. "Nothing, Ziva. Nothing at all."

**000010000**

Aside from the frequent lapses into bouts of shaking, Tony was improving drastically as the days passed. He was out of the bed, down to physical therapy where he was able to walk more every day, even pushing himself to jog and run. His appetite had returned full force and he was anxious to get out of the hospital, eagerly accepting all tests the doctors and nurses pushed his way.

"Can I go yet, doc?" he asked, flashing his boss as smile as Gibbs walked through the door.

"I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to leave tomorrow, Agent DiNozzo," the doctor responded, making notations on Tony's chart. "Get some rest and we'll be back in for one more check up in the morning." He smiled, leaving the room.

"That's good news, DiNozzo," Gibbs offered, leaning back against the wall, taking a sip of his usual black coffee.

"Can't wait to bust out of here. Ready to be back in my own bed." He stretched fitfully before leaning back against the pillows. "Been out of the game too long. What happened with Matthews?"

"What do you remember?"

He leaned his head back, his eyes searching over the ceiling as if the answers were written there. "We went out for deliveries. I…asked him if he'd paid off the local cops. He was makin' exchanges basically right behind their squad cars." He paused, sorting through his memories, attempting to separate reality from fiction.

"Did he?"

"No, boss. At least, not that he admitted." He looked back over at Gibbs. "I remember knowing that something was wrong. Took out my phone. Near the end of the run…we ran into that petty officer we questioned about the murder. She made me. Matthews was giving her more product. She dropped it and ran."

"McGee found her. She killed the petty officer on Matthews' order."

"Huh, makes sense," he murmured, more to himself.

"Your text for help didn't go through. No signal."

"That…also makes sense. I…woulda bailed the car, but he had a gun on me." The image of Matthews beside him in the car flashed back into his mind. "After that, he took me to the room where…where you obviously found me. There was no way I could move. Whatever he gave me…hit fast." _And hurt,_ he added to himself, _I've never felt pain like that._

"Good thing you're stubborn, DiNozzo. Much longer and we woulda been bringin' ya to Ducky instead."

"I dropped the ball, boss."

Before he had time to blink, Gibbs had closed the distance between them and landed a hard slap against the back of Tony's head, harder than he'd hit him before. He found himself looking into Gibbs' intense eyes, only an inch from his own.

"You did one helluva job, DiNozzo." He glared into his senior agent's eyes until the younger man retreated back as far as he could.

"Th-thanks, boss."

Gibbs stepped back, his face still quite serious. "I don't wanna be that close to losin' ya again, Tony."

Awkwardly, he nodded, agreement written clearly on his face. He never wanted to be that close to death again either. Avoiding the pain that he'd endured over the past few weeks was also top on his priority list, as well as the vivid hallucinations and nightmares. "So…um…Matthews?"

"Got enough to put him away for life. Your testimony will be the icin' on the cake."

He smiled, laying back against the bed.

_~*Gibbs nodded, moving toward the door.*~_

**tbc…**

_**If you enjoy my work, find me on facebook (link on my profile) and stay up-to-date on new stories and ideas.**_


	10. Haunted

**A/N: Thanks for all the positive reviews and adds. I hope you enjoy this newest installment. Drop your thoughts in a review and lemme know what you think!**

~*_He gathered her into his arms.*~_

Ziva knocked on the door, waiting outside the apartment until the door swung wide. Tony stood on the other side in his sweats, smiling slightly as he stepped back to let her in. She passed by quietly, moving to his living room as he closed the door behind them. He paced into the larger room, noticing she'd already removed her shoes and curled onto the end of his couch. He took a seat on the opposite side, turning to face her, pulling his legs up under him.

She turned herself, laying her head over against the back of the couch as she looked over him. He seemed tired, but healthy, putting back on the weight he'd lost over the earlier weeks.

"What can I do for you, Zee-vah?" he asked softly, looking her over intently.

"I just came over to see if you were okay," she responded, just as softly, meeting his eyes.

He gave her a muted version of his infamous grin. "Is that because Jessica just dumped me or because I'm due back to work on Monday?"

"She dumped you?"

"Yeah, she did. Something about standing in the way of what was 'meant to be' and not being the type who can handle 'waiting for a phone call.'" He sighed. "Nothin' we hadn't fought about before."

"I am…sorry, Tony," she offered, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "Most people cannot handle living waiting on that phone call."

He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. "I guess maybe…I'm not meant to settle down." He laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm a little bitter. Bein' back at work will help."

"I must admit, Tony…I am not used to seeing you like this."

His brow furrowed, "like what?"

"This. You are…less cocky."

"Yeah, well," he climbed to his feet, pacing past her into the kitchen, "getting butted out of a long-term relationship kinda…stings, ya know?" He pulled open the refrigerator. "Want a drink?"

"Sure."

A moment later, he returned to the couch, handing a cold beer down to her. She popped the cap from her bottle, taking a swig as she watched him resume his seat, trying to hide the shake that had started in his hands.

"Does that happen often?" she queried, helping him with his beer.

He sighed in frustration, running his hand across his cheek, scratching at the slight stubble. "Yeah. More often than I care to admit. Dunno what that bastard gave me, but a month later, it's still sending me into a vibrate setting." He took a drink. "Anyway, you never answered my question, Zee-vah."

"Perhaps I simply wanted company." She cupped the cold bottle in her hands, catching the drops of condensation on her fingers. _I am going crazy, Tony. I do not wish to be alone._

"Company," he repeated, nodding slowly. "Okay. Movie then?"

"Sure."

He stood again, moving over to his entertainment center, his eyes scanning the movie titles for something she might enjoy. He could feel her eyes on his back, speeding his decision. They settled back on the couch together as the previews filled the screen of the large television. He had chosen a comedy, feeling they needed a bit of levity in the room. Soon, _Get Smart_ was playing, humorous enough to keep their minds occupied.

She fell asleep toward the end of the movie, curled securely against the corner of the couch, her arms wrapped tightly about herself. Tony looked over at her as he heard the even sounds of her breathing, finding himself somewhat taken aback that the sound was so light. She'd been unbelievably loud during their undercover ops. An occasional snore escaped her, but it was nowhere near as obnoxious as he remembered. Smiling to himself, he turned his attention back to the movie, watching it through though he'd seen it several times before.

He found himself drifting off as the credits rolled, more tired than he'd realized he was, only to be startled awake by the sounds of struggling coming from the other side of the sofa. He crawled over to a distressed, still sleeping Ziva, daring to grasp her arm, attempting to lightly shake her to wake her from her dream.

As soon as he made contact with her skin, he found himself flipped and on his back on the floor, a very livid former-Mossaud agent straddling his chest, her fist poised in a drawn back position to disable him.

"Ziva!" he called.

She squinted down at him in confusion. "Tony?" Slowly, she dropped her hand, unsure of what had happened. Sudden realization washed over her, sending her scrambling backward off of her partner until her back hit the wall.

He pulled himself to his knees, studying her carefully. "Zee?" He moved a little closer to her. "You alright?"

"Do not…" She swallowed, shaking her head as she looked up at him. Hurriedly, she climbed to her feet, retrieving her shoes and running from the apartment.

He jogged after her, calling for her, worried by what he'd seen in her eyes. Ziva had always been a very private, emotionally controlled person. He'd never seen her like that before. She had been so quick that he'd only just made it to the door by the time she'd got to her mini and peeled away from the apartment. He leaned against the doorframe, staring away in the direction she'd disappeared off to.

"Now, now, Ziva," he mused, "what was that all about?"

**000010000**

"Take the shot!" Gibbs shouted, glancing toward Ziva, the others scattered disarmed around her.

Her gun was leveled at the man in front of her, her hand shaking noticeably. His laugh echoed through the alleyway as he yanked on the hair of the woman he held.

"Ziva!" Gibbs growled.

"_Ziva…"_

She shook her head, her eyes stinging.

"_Ziva…"_

_Breathe, Ziva. Take the shot,_ she thought, breathing through her nose. Her hand slowly stilled and she gazed into the eyes of the man she held at gunpoint. The muted pleas from the captive woman reached her ears again, grounding her back to the present.

"You…have one chance," she said, forcing the quake from her voice. "Lower your weapon."

He tightened his grip on his gun. "Or what, agent?" he laughed. "Gonna choke?"

She could see his finger begin to squeeze in on the trigger. It only took her milliseconds to respond, emptying three rounds from her own gun, the first hitting him directly between the eyes. He dropped hard, his gun sliding across the floor. The woman he held tore out of his dying grip, stumbling toward the agents.

Tony pulled her into a hug as Ziva holstered her gun, pacing a few steps from side to side, her eyes searching the ground, her hand fisted in her hair. Feeling trapped, she ducked out of the side door, avoiding McGee as he moved toward her, leaving the three agents to clean up inside.

"What was that about?" McGee murmured to Tony as Gibbs collected their weapons.

"Dunno, Probie," he answered. "Come on," he said, looking down at the tearful rescued woman. "The ambulance should be here soon. We'll wait outside."

Tony moved over to Ziva, who was leaning against the back of the car. He watched the paramedics fuss over their patient before turning back to the distraught agent. She turned away from him, shrugging his hand from her arm as he attempted to turn her back toward him.

"Hey." He paced around to stand in front of her, forcing her to look at him. It was impossible to miss the haunted look in her eyes. "What's goin' on with you, Zee?"

"Nothing, Tony." She turned away again. "Leave me be."

"Ziva," he said softly, sympathetically, attempting to get her to speak.

"_I am fine, Tony."_

He backed away at her insistence, leaving her to herself until the rest of the team climbed into the car, forcing her in with them as they drove back to NCIS headquarters. The ride up to the bullpen in the elevator was tense, McGee and DiNozzo stumbling out as Gibbs shoved them, smacking the button to autopsy before Ziva could step out. The emergency stop button was pushed with the same intensity.

She held her ground as Gibbs rounded on her, staring commandingly into her eyes.

"What was that, Ziva?" he demanded. "I say shoot, you damned well better

shoot."

"I am…sorry, Gibbs."

"What's going on, Ziver?" he asked, a little more gently, trying to read her face.

"Nothing. Nothing. I am fine," she insisted, exhaling through her nose, trying her best to stay focused on his eyes.

"This is the third time you've dropped the ball this month." He shifted on the balls of his feet. "We've never had a problem before."

Nervously, she bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth between his. Could he see her panic? Could he see her falling apart? Was she truly the only one hearing the whispers?

"Go home, Ziva. Take the rest of the day off."

"No, Gibbs! I can do my job."

"Not today, you can't." He hit the button again, canceling the floor call and returning to the bullpen. "Call me when you pull yourself together." He strode to his desk as she gathered her things, hurrying from the building to avoid prying eyes.

**000010000**

Ziva David let herself into her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her before absently tossing her keys onto the counter. Her hair was a mess, half spilling out from the messy pony-tail she had pulled it into earlier that day. Her eyes were red where she'd been crying, unusual for her normal stoic demeanor, rarely showing any emotion at all. She had only just managed to keep herself together until she'd gotten in her car and away from NCIS headquarters.

She dropped her bag on the floor and decidedly put one foot in front of the other, shuffling toward the bathroom and turning on her shower. It had been a hard month for her and she'd struggled to keep her stress from the work place, finding Gibbs glancing frequently over at her as if he were studying her. She'd dropped the ball several times on crime scene runs, drawing several heated elevator discussions as they'd returned to the bullpen, which she always seemed to space out of.

Today had been no different, and both Tony and McGee had approached her, asking if everything were okay. She couldn't tell them. She couldn't find the words to tell them what had her so spooked.

Shivering, she looked down at her clothed body, feeling as if she were staring at someone else. She felt numb, sick, disoriented. It had often felt like she was moving awkwardly through a waking dream over the past few weeks.

"_Ziva._"

She spun around, hearing what sounded like a very teasing whisper of her name sound directly by her ear. Her breath caught in her chest. She knew that voice. She knew the pain attached to that voice. "You are here alone, Ziva," she said aloud, looking at herself intensely in the mirror, trying to convince herself that she did not feel the hands pulling at her body. "There is no one here." Her voice broke and another tear slid down her cheeks.

"_Ziva…"_ The voice sounded again, this time from her other side.

She shrugged away from the imaginary hands, climbing fully clothed to stand in the shower, trying to scrub the hands away. She cried freely, occasional sobs tearing through her body. It felt as if she were losing her grip on reality.

"_Ziva!"_

"Go away!" she cried, strangling on her own tears, redoubling her efforts to cleanse herself. "You…you are not real!"

A sinister chuckle seemed to echo through the bathroom and chills crawled over her skin, sending her stumbling from the shower to retch into the toilet, voiding what she'd managed to eat before leaving work.

"_It is time for you to wake, Ziva. No more sleeping until I am finished with you."_

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the cool porcelain between her hands, keeping her grounded to reality. Hopelessness descended on her then, draping over her like a wet blanket.

Dizzy, she pushed herself to her feet, reaching unsteadily for the bathroom door. It grayed and seemed to shift before her. She knew these doors. She had to escape. She pushed out into the open room, turning on her heels as she seemed to reel, panic gripping her.

"No," she sobbed. "No, no, no!" She felt hands reach out, grasping her arms tightly to halt her movement. Her breath burned in her chest as she breathed in the familiar smell, knowing who held her as he paced around to stand in front of her.

His cold, calculating eyes seem to pierce her through, lined with cruel laugh-lines. "_Welcome back, Ziva. I thought you were going to sleep all day."_

Her legs gave out and she fell to the floor.

**000010000**

"Either of you get anything out of Ziva?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked, looking up as his agents, DiNozzo and McGee, reentered the bullpen. Tony sat his bag down by his desk.

"No, boss," he replied, "she wouldn't talk to me."

"Me either," McGee added, pushing a few buttons on his keyboard to shake his computer out of sleep mode as he took his seat.

Gibbs absently scratched his fingers through his short graying hair, looking thoughtfully over at the desk his newest probationary agent normally occupied. She had been so scattered that he'd sent her home after lunch, ordering her to sleep and to call him when she woke. Offended, she had protested, insisting that she could do her job.

"Boss?"

"It's alright, DiNozzo. She's supposed to call me when she wakes up." He stood, moving to stand at his senior agent's desk. "How are you feeling, while we're on the subject?"

"No more shakes, boss," came the reply as he flashed him a winning grin.

"Good. Finish the report on the Harrington case." He strode off toward the break room, making a coffee stop before heading up to MTAC.

Sighing, Tony pulled out his case notes and the file, reaching over to pull open a new document on his computer screen.

"Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah, Probie?" He glanced over at his partner, stifling the urge to pop off something smart as he saw the expression on his face.

"Ziva really hasn't told you what's bothering her?" he asked after a moment.

"No, McGee." His brow furrowed as the younger agent gave him a nod as if confirming something to himself before turning back to his computer, his fingers flying across the keys as he, too, took frequent glances over at the empty desk. Ziva had them all worried.

Returning to his own work, he decided he'd stop in to check on her before heading home. They'd talk tonight.

**2100 Hours…**

Tony climbed out of his car, relieved to find Ziva's parked outside of her apartment. She had made it home. He jogged to the main door and let himself inside, climbing up the stairs and knocking on her door. There was no answer. Frowning, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial for her phone, listening at the door as it rung through. He could hear the ring coming from the other side of the door. She was home. He knocked again, this time louder.

"C'mon, Ziva," he grumbled under his breath, "Never be unreachable!" He knocked again, eventually searching around her door for her spare key. After a moment, he was able to let himself in to her apartment, cautiously looking around to make sure she wasn't aiming a gun at him from across the room. Feeling secure, he stepped inside and kicked the door shut, noting her keys on the counter and her bag by the inside of the door. He could hear the shower running. "Ziva!" He stepped around the corner, his eyes immediately finding her lying motionless on her back on the floor.

He swallowed his fear, finding himself immediately at her side, checking for a pulse, which he found going strong, easing his breath a little. Her clothes were damp and her body chilled. He realized she'd showered with her clothes on. "Ziva," he said softly, cupping her cheeks in his hands and lifting her eyelids with his thumbs, checking her pupils. "Wake up, Ziva."

She didn't stir.

Anguished, he gathered her into his arms.

-*_He tried to still his racing heart, glancing around the apartment for signs of a struggle.*-_

**tbc...**


	11. Lost

**A/N: Many special thanks for the new reviews and adds. I truly appreciate each insight and encouragement. For those of you who haven't picked up on it yet, the last chapter contained a restatement of the intro to the story to bring things full circle. Time has caught up with itself in the story. Personally, I love dabbling in psychological thrillers and suspense. Forgive me if it isn't your thing. Also forgive me if I'm unable to meet your posting expectations. I'm a very busy gal, especially this week. As always, I'd appreciate hearing from you. Just drop a review or a message. You're also welcome to find me on facebook: Casmoiraitiel.**

_~*He gripped his head in his hands, rocking slightly back and forth.*~_

Tony carefully adjusted Ziva's body in his arms, reaching for his cell. He first called for an ambulance as he had yet to wake Ziva. With an unsteady hand, he hit the speed dial and brought the phone to his ear, his eyes traveling back to her face.

"_Gibbs."_

"Boss, I'm at Ziva's."

"_What's wrong, DiNozzo?" _Gibbs asked, hearing the strain in his senior agent's voice.

"She's unconscious." He looked around the apartment again. "No signs of a struggle. Shower running. Her clothes are damp. Looks like she was in the shower with her clothes on, boss." He was doing his level best to keep himself calm, unsure of what had happened.

"_We'll be there in five."_

Tony closed the phone, laying it on the floor as he shifted his full attention back to the woman in his arms. He ran his hand through her hair, gently smoothing it back from her pale face. Gently, he rolled back her sleeves, checking her arms for marks and bruises. There was nothing.

"C'mon, Zee," he murmured, "wake up."

Her skin was very cool to the touch, a testament to the damp clothes she had been laying in since she climbed out of the shower. He rubbed his hands along her arms, attempting to warm her, worry written plainly on his face.

It wasn't long before he heard the paramedics pushing themselves into the apartment, tearing her from his hold, checking her over themselves. Gibbs and McGee were only a minute behind them, rushing into the apartment to find Tony still sitting on the floor, gazing at the men fussing over her. Gibbs moved to his senior field agent as McGee shadowed the EMTs, trying to see if there was anything that had been missed before they transported her to the hospital.

Gibbs offered Tony a hand up, trying to get the younger man to focus enough to start going through the scene. He handed him a kit, nodding toward the bathroom.

"Tony," he said quietly, "Tony!"

"Yeah, boss," he responded, snapping his eyes up to meet Gibbs'. "Bathroom. Got it." His hand tightened around the handle of the evidence collection kit as he made his way into the bathroom, laying the box on the sink as he popped it open, retrieving the gloves from inside and pulling them on.

The three men processed the apartment from top to bottom, coming up empty handed. There had been no one else in her apartment. The bed was made, the coffee pot was empty, and there were no dishes in the sink. They took fingerprint samples, stowing them away as they headed back to NCIS, having Abby run them through the database. They all belonged to Ziva.

"What's wrong with Ziva?" Abby demanded as she ran the final print, turning to face Gibbs.

"We don't know, Abs," he sighed. "Headin' to find out now." He quickly kissed her cheek, jerking his head toward the door to send his team out before him.

They split apart, McGee heading back to his apartment as Gibbs and DiNozzo took separate cars to the hospital, making quick work of the trip through the lighter traffic of the evening. They were greeted at the nurses' station, learning that Ziva was undergoing several tests before they were sent to the waiting room.

The senior field agent paced nervously around the length of the room, his mind racing. He thought back over the past few weeks, the incident in his apartment where she had almost punched him out in her sleep and earlier that day when she had choked on a shot, the haunted look she carried searing into his mind. He had no idea what could have had the former Mossaud agent so scared and no idea what could have happened in her apartment, but he was sure they were connected. He just didn't know how.

_Maybe there's someone after her, _he thought. _Seems like her former life keeps comin' back to bite her on the ass. Wouldn't be a far stretch if someone was after her. _He worried the inside of his lip, pausing in his pacing to stare at the wall, his eyes flicking quickly from left to right as if he were reading words on a page. _There was no one in her apartment. She showered in her clothes. She threw up. She passed out on the floor. She left the water running. It doesn't make sense._

"DiNozzo," Gibbs murmured, indicating the chair across from him, "park. You're makin' me nervous."

"Sorry, boss." Slowly, he sank into the seat, his eyes coming to rest on the floor in front of him as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"What are ya thinkin', Tony?" he asked, leaning forward to match the man across from him.

"She…came over to my apartment two weeks ago." He paused, glancing up at his boss, then back down at the floor. "Seemed kinda out of it, said she wanted company, so I put in a movie and she fell asleep."

Gibbs listened to him relate the short story in silence, his hands clasped together in front of his knees where he'd normally be cradling a styrofoam cup of black coffee.

"I shoulda tried harder to get her to talk."

"Ziva's a special case, DiNozzo," Gibbs finally offered, coaxing his agent to look up at him with the inflection in his words. "She doesn't talk. We know that."

"Why…why would she shower with her clothes on?" Tony asked, confused. "And what the hell happened in her apartment?"

"She'll have to tell us that when she wakes up."

They lapsed into a mutual silence for a long moment, each lost in their own thoughts, sorting through the events of the day. Tony raggedly ran his hands through his hair, still struggling with the guilt that he felt. There was something nagging at him that he couldn't quite place. He could hear her voice in his head.

"Hey," Gibbs said quietly, standing and looking down at Tony, "it's not your fault."

Tony started at the gentle tap on the back of his head, his head snapping up as it brought him back to the present. Slowly, he nodded, watching his boss move back down the hallway, most likely in search of coffee.

**000010000**

_Ziva struggled against the ties on her wrists and ankles, searching for a weak spot so she could slip free. The bonds, however, were well secured and she ended up simply chaffing her skin, drawing blood that dripped down her hands. Her eyes quickly searched the dark room, sliding over the familiar dirty windows and the familiar thick door that led into the hallways snaking through the compound. For the moment, she was alone, but she knew there would only be minutes before that would change. _He _would be there._

_She redoubled her efforts to free herself, biting on the inside of her lip to keep from making a sound to give away her struggle and her pain. Determined, she swore she wouldn't give an inch. Not this time. She didn't know how long she'd been out or how long she'd been dreaming of being back at NCIS. She had imagined Tony and McGee coming to rescue her. It had obviously been wishful thinking on her part. They weren't looking for her. She'd stayed behind in Tel Aviv. It already seemed so long ago._

_Still, that dream had renewed the hope in her, the hope she'd given up. She'd been broken and ashamed, beaten, bloody, and bruised. Carefully, she slid her tongue over her lips, feeling the split that she thought had healed a long while ago. She closed her eyes, trying to force the panic from her mind._

_Her eyes snapped open as she heard the squeak of the doorknob as it turned slowly, the door pushing open to reveal the man who stood, framed perfectly in the open portal. His grin sent chills up her spine as he sauntered into the room, moving to kneel in front of her._

"_It is…about time you woke, Ziva," Saleem chuckled, running his hands up to rest on her thighs_

"_Do not touch me," she hissed, her eyes narrowed as she glared down at her captor._

"_Oh." He blinked before an amused expression crossed his face. "The defiant Ziva is back. I thought we had…taken care of this." He cupped her cheek, chuckling again as she attempted to turn away. His hand slid around, grasping a handful of her hair and he jerked her head back, slowly standing until he bent over her, his face only inches from hers. "Do not worry, pet. I will fix that…soon enough."_

**000010000**

"There's no drugs in her system, no bruises or defensive wounds. Brain scans show a high level of activity," the doctor stated, looking at the two agents in front of him. "We did what we could, which wasn't really a lot. Brought her body temp back up to an acceptable level."

"Then what's wrong with her?" Gibbs asked, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet.

"Truthfully…nothing. As far as I can tell, there's absolutely no medical reason for Agent David to be in the state she's in."

"And what state is that?" Tony demanded.

The doctor removed his glasses, rubbing the corner of his eye with his fingertips. "Perhaps it's a state of psychosis. I'm not really qualified to say. All I know is that medically, she is sound."

The two agents exchanged heavy looks before turning back to the doctor.

"There's no way of knowing what's going on until she wakes up. Until then, we have her on a fluid drip to keep her hydrated and if she doesn't wake, we might have to look at a…feeding tube. We're not gonna jump to conclusions until we absolutely have no other choice." He paused, fitting the glasses back to his face. "It might be a comfort for her to have family with her. Is there anyone…?"

"We're her family," Gibbs stated simply, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Thanks, doc. We'll take care of it."

The middle-aged man nodded and turned away, retreating down the hallway as he left the two of them alone.

"Head home, DiNozzo. I'll take first watch." He turned to face Tony, looking over his preoccupied face. "What…?"

"Words," Tony interjected slowly, his brow furrowed. "Jumbled together. They don't make sense. Not yet."

"Go home, Tony. You're here tomorrow evening…if there's a need for it." He waited for the responding nod before continuing. "You let me know if you figure out…whatever it is you're thinkin' about."

"Yeah, boss," Tony responded, turning slowly to go.

**At DiNozzo's Apartment…**

Tony stood at the bathroom sink, his skin still damp from the shower. He ran his hand over the mirror in front of him, clearing off the mist from the glass. Deliberately, he reached for this toothbrush, still sorting through the words in his head. They were spoken in Ziva's voice, only he couldn't remember where or when he'd heard them, or even what exactly had been said.

Sighing, he ran the water, brushing his teeth and finishing up his nightly routine before dragging into the bedroom and throwing himself onto the bed, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

He was beyond exhausted, not having slept much since he'd been released from the hospital. Being alone gave him too much time to think, often reliving the hallucinations he'd had under the drug induced trip he'd been forced to take. Many of those hallucinations had involved watching each of his teammates die repeatedly in gruesome fashion while he stood by, powerless to help.

It wasn't the dreams that bothered him tonight, it was the words that had started to shake the fog from his mind while he'd been recovering at the hospital. It was Ziva. He'd followed her scared, quavering voice back from the darkness he'd been buried in. It hit him like a brick. That had been what Jessica was insisting on. She felt she was standing in their way, his and Ziva's.

"She knew," he breathed. "I thought I had gotten over it." _Not after rescuing her. Not after she forgave you._ He rolled onto his side, pulling the pillow to a more comfortable position as the thoughts continued to race through his head. _What could Jess have told her?_

Uneasy and restless, he found himself only drifting in and out of a light sleep, tossing and turning fitfully as he tried to force his thoughts into order.

"_I can feel him coming back, Tony, and I do not feel strong enough to stop him without you._"

His eyes flew open and he sat up, looking around the room, Ziva's voice fresh in his mind. He blinked. Who was coming back?

"_I would not be where I am. I feel as if I am losing my grip on reality."_

He looked around the room, feeling as if his mind were playing tricks on him, searching for where the whispered voice had came from. Pained, he gripped his head in his hands, rocking slightly back and forth as the tide carried him away, and he lost himself amidst the memories and thoughts with nothing to pull him free.

_~*He clamped his eyes shut, trying to piece things together.*~_

**tbc...**


	12. Psychosomatic

**A/N: This is a bit of a shorter chapter, hopefully to tide you over until I have time to sit down and devote to writing again. There most likely won't be another update for a few days. I apologize, but real life is a little more busy at the moment than I anticipated it would be. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and adds. I hope to be wrapping this story up soon. Enjoy, and drop your thoughts in a review or message! Thanks :)**

_~*The men stood in the hospital room, searching for answers.*~_

The bullpen was quiet and Tony sat at his desk, his head leaned back against his chair. He was the only one there. McGee would be on the way to the hospital to relieve Gibbs' watch. Gibbs would be coming in soon. Sighing, he sat up, his eyes coming to rest on Ziva's desk. _Ziva._ His thoughts had kept him up all night.

"Here early, DiNozzo."

Tony sat up, looking over to see Director Vance stepping off the elevator. He moved over to stand in front of his desk.

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep." He straightened his jacket. "How can I help you, Director?"

"How you doin', Tony?" came the question as Vance pulled a toothpick from his pocket.

"Oh, I'm fine," he replied.

"Hell of a job on the Matthews' case." Vance chewed in the end of the toothpick for a moment, regarding the agent in front of him, accepting the brief nod of acknowledgement he received. "What's goin' on with Agent Da-veed?"

"Not sure yet."

"The team okay to work, DiNozzo?" Vance demanded quietly, his eyes narrowed.

"The team's fine, Leon," Gibbs answered, striding off the elevator and into the bullpen, pushing past the director and sliding into place at his desk. "There anything else you need?"

"Keep me posted." He tossed the used toothpick into McGee's trashcan and moved away, taking the stairs up to the observation floor to his office.

Gibbs looked over at Tony, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. It was a moment before he looked away, sorting through the folders on his desk. "You get the Harrington report finished?"

"Bottom of the stack, boss."

They made busy with their work, Tony continuing to work on his full detailed report of his undercover time with Matthews as Gibbs read over the reports that had been made over the past few days, double checking facts and making sure all was in order for submission.

The day was slow, slow enough for Gibbs to pull Tony away at lunch time, heading to the small diner across the street. They claimed a corner booth, going through the motions of ordering food and drink without much interest at all.

"So," Gibbs finally said, taking a long drink from his coffee, "gonna tell me?"

"I was up all night." He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, feeling the exhaustion creeping up his back. "Thinking. The day I woke up…Ziva had been talking to me. That was what woke me up. I was…trying to remember what she said."

"And?"

"She sounded scared. I think that's what finally got through to me. I…hate seeing…or hearing her when she's upset." He shook himself. "Anyway. She said that she could feel him coming back. At least, that's what I think she said."

"What do ya think that means, DiNozzo?"

"Dunno, boss," he took a drink of his own coffee, grimacing slightly at the bitter brew, reaching to add more of his favorite creamer. "I don't like it and I don't know how to help."

They lapsed into silence, waiting for the waitress to sit their sandwiches in front of them. They ate in the same silence, Gibbs watching his agent closely as chewed thoughtfully, not really tasting his food.

"How long, Tony?" he finally queried, signaling for another cup of coffee.

"How long…what, boss?" he responded, laying the remainder of his burger on the table.

"How long have you had feelings for her?"

"Rule…twelve, boss." He blushed a bit at his stammering, pushing back from his plate. "Wouldn't break the rules."

"That doesn't answer my question." He nodded at the waitress in thanks as she refilled his cup.

"It's always been there, I think," he finally confessed, considering his words carefully. "I think it finally hit home when I found out about Rivkin." Sighing, he looked down at his plate, feeling a bit queasy. "Thought if I ignored it, it'd go away.

The older agent smirked, shaking his head slightly. "How's that workin' out for ya?"

"Not very well, obviously…if you can tell what I've been hiding." He looked up at his boss. "There's no way you'd be okay with us dating. There's no way even to tell if she feels the same way."

"Let's worry about that after she wakes up, huh?" Gibbs gathered his badge and hat, gesturing for Tony to follow as he paid for their meal. "I think it's time to go talk to Ducky."

**000010000**

"Ah, Anthony, my boy," Ducky greeted as the autopsy room doors slid open, the two agents stepping inside, "it's great to see you up and about." He spun in his chair, standing up from his desk. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, Ducky," he answered, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Not why we're here," Gibbs chimed in.

"Then how may I be of service?"

"Ziva," Tony stated.

"Ah." The doctor adjusted his glasses on his face as a ploy to stall. "I…well, I suppose she told you she and Jessica had talked, but I'm not sure that _I _am the person you should be talking to."

"They…talked? About what?" The younger agent pushed himself off the wall, taking a few paces toward the doctor.

"Well, it was mainly Jessica that…" he trailed off, clearing his throat. "I don't believe this is my place to say, Tony. Perhaps you should talk to Ziva."

"We'd do that, Duck, but Ziva isn't exactly talking right now." Gibbs sighed, kicking himself for not bringing the M.E. into the equation as soon as Tony had called him from the apartment.

Tony quickly ran down what had happened the day before, watching the doctor's expression, hoping to find some clue before the older man leveled his verdict. "And what do you mean…they talked?"

"Now is not the time for that, Anthony, and I am not the one you need to ask," Ducky scolded, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I think…I need to have a consult with Ziva's doctor."

"We're headin' that way, Duck. Let's go."

**000010000**

_Ziva bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retaliating as Saleem pulled her out of the chair. She worked her wrists against the rope that bound her, staring away from the man who held her as he tried to force her to look at him._

"_Now, Ziva," he said softly, gripping her face tightly, his thumb pressing hard into her cheek, "just yesterday I had you right where I wanted you."_

"_Things…change," she forced, twisting away from him and falling to the ground, grunting in pain. She hurt all over. _

_He grabbed her, yanking her back to her feet by her hair, laughing. "I must admit that I have missed the…feisty Ziva. It will be fun…to break you all over again." He ran his hand down the length of her body, grabbing and pulling at her clothes, his palm brushing over her breasts._

_She flinched, her body recoiling from the intimate touch. He threw her roughly back into the chair, smiling slightly._

"_You are fortunate, Ziva. I have other things to attend to today, but I will be back for you…this evening." He backed out of the door, locking it behind him, leaving her alone in the room._

_She hung her head, fighting down the bile that was rising dangerously in her throat. Had the rescue been a dream? Where was Tony and McGee? What about Gibbs? She could have sworn that a bullet from Gibbs' rifle had killed Saleem. How was Saleem here? How was she back in captivity? Had she ever left? Which reality was the dream? How long did she have before Saleem came back?_

**000010000**

"Thank you, Dr. Hampton," Dr. Mallard finished, stepping back into the room from the hallway where the three agents were waiting inside, Tony perched as closely as he could be to Ziva's bedside. "He is right, Jethro. There is _nothing_ medically wrong with her"

"She's been acting strange all month, Duck," the team leader responded, glancing over at the bed before nodding toward Tony. "Said something about 'she could feel him coming back.'"

"It _is _highly probable that this is psychosomatic ordeal. Ziva has never really worked through what has happened in her past. Something might have happened to set off a reaction that could not be stopped." He looked over at the bed too. "She would have fought very hard, our girl would have, but without seeking help, there would have been no stopping the memories from taking on a life of their own."

"So…how do we stop it?" Tony asked.

"Well," Ducky paused, considering his options for a moment before continuing, "without knowing exactly what she's running from, the only other option would be to try to get through to her. We might be able to startle her back to reality."

"And how do we do that?" McGee spoke up, looking between those gathered in the room.

"Give her irrefutable reason that would bring her mind back to the present."

_~*Tony looked down at Ziva, upset that she hadn't confided in him sooner.*~_

**tbc…**


	13. Let Me Help

**A/N: PLEASE NOTE, RATING CHANGE TO M. THIS CHAPTER IS A BIT GRAPHIC.**

**Additionally, thanks to everyone who continues to read and leave wonderful reviews, and thanks to those who have added. Always makes me smile. :)**

_~*He held her hand tightly in his own.*~_

_The room was dark with only occasional flashes of light passing by the dirty window on the door to tell her that guards were passing down the hallway with lit torches. Her wrists were now raw and the rope that bound her was soaked through with her blood. She knew there wouldn't be a lot of time left until Saleem would be returning to the room, and she knew what his preferred method of torture had turned to. He called her his 'pretty little pet,' having her bathed in scalding water and scrubbed with rough brushes to get her clean before she was dragged back to the room they held her in. Once there, she was spread out across the rickety table, her ankles bound to the bottom of the table legs, her wrists bound at the opposite side._

_She'd be bound there, awkwardly spread, her clothes tossed out of sight as her bare body air dried, leaving her exposed for anyone who happened in on the room. She'd never been more humiliated, or at least she had thought nothing could top it, until Saleem had ripped that away._

_It had started with touches and grabbing, pulling, pinching, and scratching. He had traced cuts on her skin with field knives, watching the blood drip slowly from her bronze skin with a sadistic, pleased grin on his face. Sometimes he would leave her and sometimes he would free himself from his pants, grasp firmly to her hips, and plunge himself inside her, tearing the last bit of her dignity away as he raped her. He would use her until he was sated, spilling his seed deep inside of her before leaving her alone for the night, used and curled up on the floor, tears running silently down her cheeks. She knew for sure she'd miscarried, the only thing she'd been thankful for while being in captivity._

_She exhaled shakily. No one had been in to drag her off to be scoured yet and it was growing late. She had no idea how late Saleem would wait or even if he'd change his mind, leaving her to wait, wide awake and staring at the door as the night passed. For all she knew, he was watching her now, waiting for her to drop her guard._

"_This cannot be real," she whispered to herself, "I just need to wake up. This is a dream. I am back in my apartment. Gibbs will be calling any moment to make sure I am well. Gibbs _killed _Saleem. He killed him. I know he did. I saw the bullet hit him between the eyes. Why can I not wake up?" She rocked slightly back and forth, repeating her words to herself. "Wake up, Ziva. Wake up."_

_She remembered being brought in to Tony's room, seated in front of his chair as the sack covering her head had been removed, bringing his battered face into view. The night before had been particularly brutal. She didn't know what Saleem had used, but it had not been himself when he'd raped her the night before. She'd been brutalized by something hard and metallic, the studs digging into her skin painfully. She'd assumed it had been some sort of weapon, and she'd bled from tearing, passing out before her assaulter had finished with her. That had earned her another beating before she'd been dragged away to the bath, returned to her room to wallow in the dirt on the floor, her skin raw._

_Mentally, she kicked herself for how she'd treated Tony. He'd always came to her rescue, even when she'd turned to Gibbs first. He'd repeatedly risked his job, his safety, and himself to protect his teammates, especially her. Her judgment had been clouded when it came to Rivkin. She shouldn't have chalked Tony's reaction up to nothing but jealousy, and she shouldn't have stayed behind instead of flying back stateside with her team, the three men who had accepted her and given her something she'd never had before, a true family._

"_Tony," she breathed, a single tear leaking down her cheek, grief filling her, forcing all else from her mind._

"_Still holding on to that…special agent?" Saleem asked, slowly entering the room as if he'd been waiting for her to break down. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it, a teasing smile touching his lips. "He isn't coming, Ziva. This…renewed hope is counterproductive. We'd gotten so far."_

"_You are not real," she repeated, looking up at him through eyes narrowed in fear and anger, trying to tunnel through the guilt that still choked her. "You are dead. I watched you die."_

"_Oh, yes," he mused, "this again. Clearly you're delusional." He approached her, his hand coming to rest on her forehead, ignoring her flinch. "No fever." He looked down into her eyes, another smile lighting his face, illuminating his cruel eyes. "If your precious Gibbs put a bullet in my head, Ziva, then how am I still here, and how are you still here? Hmm?"_

"_I…I do not know." Her eyes widened as he leaned closer to her. "No, Saleem. No."_

"_Consider this your 'reintroduction' to reality," he murmured, crushing his mouth to hers._

_Reacting, she bit down hard, drawing blood from his lip. He drew back, hissing as he backhanded her, knocking her into the floor. His wrapped his fist in her hair, jerking her back to her feet. She was unable to stifle her sound of pain as her head was yanked back, forcing her to look up at him. He pushed her against the wall, chuckling._

"_I seem to remember you like the wall quite well." He hooked her hands over the hook that hung from the ceiling, turning her to face the wall. "Don't you, Ziva?"_

"_My…favorite," she spat, attempting to twist herself and kick him away._

_He laughed in amusement, pinning her forcefully against the solid wall, sliding his knee between her legs, his hands gripping at her hips. "I wonder if I shouldn't let the men in here to have their way with you. Really, there's nothing left for you to tell me, Ziva. I've got everything I want from you."_

_She worried her bottom lip, closing her eyes and forcing her breathing to even out. "Then kill me, Saleem, and let that be the end of it."_

**000010000**

The team had taken shifts sitting by the bed, including Ducky and Abby, recounting anecdotes and cases to the unresponsive Ziva, hoping that something would reach her and shock her back to the present. Tony walked into the room to take his shift, noticing that Gibbs was sitting forward, his hand clasping Ziva's tightly. He'd resorted to physical touch, hoping that would be the key as nothing else had seemed to work. He stood as he saw his senior agent in the doorway, leaning over to brush a soft kiss across Ziva's forehead, pausing to whisper in her ear before moving away.

"No good, Tony," Gibbs murmured. "She's been out for two days. I'm not gonna play stupid, DiNozzo. Do whatever you have to do. To hell with rule twelve,…for now. If anyone is gonna reach her, it's you." His eyes narrowed as he regarded his exhausted agent. "Something was different today."

"I know. I didn't sleep," Tony replied, frowning deeply. "Gut feeling. Running out of time."

"Yeah." He laid his hand reassuringly on Tony's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze before he stepped back. "You call as soon as there's a change, Tony."

"Yes, boss."

Left alone in the room, he paced over to the chair and shrugged his bag off beside it, dropping down into the empty seat and hiding his face in his hands. He was tired, more tired than he'd ever been before. When he'd tried to dream, he'd found himself consumed in nightmares, some of them taking him back to Somalia where he'd found Ziva. Those broke his heart. He'd seen how broken she was when she'd been brought into the room, the sack covering her head. He'd seen the defeat in her eyes. She'd said she was ready to die. Awkwardly, he swallowed over the lump in his throat.

After a long while, he looked up, leaning forward to take her hand as Gibbs had done. Lovingly, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She looked so small there against the bed, cradled by the sheets, her skin pale. Streaks of pain lined her face, but she made no sound, her only reaction the occasional change of her heartbeat.

"Look, Zee," he finally offered, his voice soft as he spoke to her, "I'm not good at this kind of thing. Hell, I run from commitment. You of all people should know that." Pausing, he took a moment to collect his thoughts again before he continued. "I've always…always wanted to look out for you and not just because you're my partner. At first, I thought it was just the thrill of covering the six of a fearless Mossaud agent." He slid his chair closer, so he could bring his face near to hers, whispering into her ear. "I don't know what you and Jess talked about.

"Yeah, Ducky told me you guys talked, and honestly, you both shoulda talked to me first," he scolded gently, "we could have saved so much time. You wouldn't be here now." He squeezed her hand. "I need you to wake up, Ziva, so I can figure out what's going on with us. I need to know if you feel the same way I do."

He continued to speak softly to her, hoping to repay the same favor she had provided him when he'd been in the dark. Even if there was something between them, surely she also had a bond with other members of the team. Why wouldn't she respond to them? Tony couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeper at play. Could this psychosomatic thing that Ducky had suggested actually be possible and how could they know without asking her.

Sighing, he laid his head against the bed, thoughts once again rushing to fill his mind. What could Ziva David be so afraid of that it had her locked in her own mind?

**000010000**

_Ziva held herself still as Saleem pulled away from her, pacing slowly around the room and leaving her hanging there by the wall. She closed her eyes, tired and more scared than she cared to admit. No matter how she tried to deny it, she was back in Somalia. She'd never left. There had been no rescue or else she wouldn't be here. It had all been a dream, a dream that had rekindled hope in her belly just for Saleem to rip away from her again. Even if she managed to overpower her captor and make it out the door, she still faced a compound that housed at least twenty heavily-armed men, if not more. She was trapped._

_She could feel his eyes on her, undressing her body as they danced over her. The lurid perversion that accompanied the feel of the gaze made her skin crawl, knowing the brute force that was behind it. She'd been raised to be a fighter, to never be a victim, and yet this man had brought her to her knees. She'd fought back and failed, and had been humiliated and defiled at his hand. She was angry, at him and at herself. Her father's voice played in her mind, accusing her of being weak, weak-willed, playing into her captor's hands. It seemed almost taunting, making her ill and ashamed. She had no idea how to process what her mind was throwing at her._

"_What is it you're thinking, Ziva?" he finally asked._

_She heard the slight scraping of the chair against the floor, telling her that Saleem had sat down, most likely turning the chair to face her. Carefully, she schooled her voice into one of a forced calm, her eyes focusing on the wall in front of her. "I am thinking…of how I am going to enjoy killing you when I free myself."_

"_Tsk, tsk, tsk, that's not very nice," he chided._

"_And you are the gracious host, are you?" she retorted, catching a bit of a second wind._

_She heard the chair legs scrape against the floor again and found herself slammed against the wall, the few inches of space there had been disappearing as she made heavy contact, her head rebounding with the force. Blood drizzled slowly from her nose as it had crushed against the unforgiving surface._

"_You will do well to remember where you are, Ziva," he whispered into her ear. "My house. My rules." He grabbed handfuls of her shirt, tearing at the dirty fabric, tossing the ruined strips to the floor._

_She knew what came next, what always came next, the dirty hands grabbing at her flesh, leaving bruises on her sensitive breasts and angry scratched welts across her torso and back. She couldn't help tensing, writhing under his hands._

"You…shoulda talked to me first…"

_Ziva inhaled sharply, her eyes snapping open. That had been Tony's voice. Saleem paused behind her, spinning her on the hook to face him. She looked up at the ceiling, waiting for another whisper._

"_What is it, Ziva?" he asked curiously. "Still holding to that hope that your NCIS team is coming to your rescue?"_

"_Yes," she responded simply, suppressing a cry as he landed a hard blow to her face. She flinched as he pulled at her pants, loosening the fabric until it fell to the floor, leaving her completely exposed in front of him._

"_No one is coming to your rescue," he assured, freeing his length into his hand. "No one."_

"Need you to wake up, Ziva…"

_She gasped. Wake up? Was she asleep? "Tony," she whispered._

"_There is no Tony." He pressed himself to her, biting down hard on the tender part of her neck, tearing the thoughts from her mind as a pained cry struggled from her throat. He forced her legs apart, landing an elbow into her midsection, distracting her resistance, leaving her completely open to him. "You are all alone, Ziva," he chuckled into her ear, thrusting forward._

_Her sob echoed through the room._

**000010000**

Tony looked up as he heard her sharp intake of breath, her hand tightening in his. He blinked, thinking he'd imagined the tear that leaked from the corner of her eye, immediately disappearing into her hair. Another followed until she was crying freely, her body tensed on the bed.

"Ziva," he said softly, shaking her hand. "C'mon, Zee. Wake up. _I'm here._" He could feel her trembling and hear her gasping breath. Something wasn't right. Her heart rate had accelerated, mirrored by the beeping on the monitor. The change drew attention from the nurse outside and she jogged in, checking Ziva over, pushing Tony away from her. She moved back outside, returning a few minutes later with a needle, pressing the plunger a bit to release any air bubbles inside. "Hey!"

"Sir?" she asked, looking back, the needle paused over the IV injection point. "She's in distress, sir. This will calm her down."

"It'll put her out. Don't give her anything," he objected, knowing in his gut that she was close to waking. "That's an order. Back off."

Nervously, she dropped the needle to her side, glancing over at him. "I have to do my job, sir."

"And I'm giving you an order to stand down," he said firmly. "This is not a medical emergency. Your job is to keep her comfortable." He leveled his narrowed eyes, gazing directly into hers. "If you're needed, I'll call you personally."

Reluctantly, she nodded, moving slowly from the room. Tony followed behind her, closing the door to the room for privacy, refusing to doubt if he'd made the right decision. He turned back to the distressed woman on the bed, sitting down beside her on the small hospital bed, cradling her hand again in his own.

"Come back to me, Zee," he murmured. "I want to help." He leaned forward, brushing his fingertips along her jaw line. "_Let me help."_

_~*His hand settled, brushing softly through her hair.*~_

**_tbc..._**


	14. Coming to Grips

**A/N: Something to tide you over until I land in Oz. Sorry it isn't longer, but I think it'll stand on it's own. Love me or hate me, tell me in a review. Thanks for those of you who have commented and added!**

_~*She turned to him, her hands resting on his chest.*~_

A haggard, distraught Tony sat at the hospital bedside, his hand wrapped tightly around Ziva's on the bed. He was on edge, nervous, his eyes never leaving her tear-streaked face. She hadn't woken, but she'd began to make noises, small, helpless whimpers at first. He wasn't sure which worried him more: the tears or the whimpers. He'd never seen her as vulnerable as this before, not even when she'd confessed to being ready to die. Sighing, he bowed his head, running a shaking hand through his tousled hair and over his stubble-covered cheeks. He was at a loss.

Gibbs had called an hour before to tell him that he and McGee had been called in to assist in an investigation, apologizing for not returning to take his shift by the bed. Tony hadn't planned on leaving anyway, focusing on the woman in front of him, studying her carefully, occasionally talking to her softly. He'd been testing the waters, throwing out at her what little he knew about her past and trying to gauge her for a response. It didn't seem that he had struck a nerve.

"C'mon, Zee," he murmured, frowning deeply. "I'm worried. I wanna help." He squeezed her hand, drawing it to his lips, dropping a light kiss against the surprisingly soft skin.

He sat there for a long while, cupping her hand against his chest, his fingers trailing lightly down her arm, a very intimate touch considering the situation. It was a way of testing the waters and trying for an elicited response. She'd never let him touch her this way without her consent. She should have had him pinned, his arm twisted painfully behind his back, angry Hebrew being spoken into his ear. Yet there was nothing.

The day continued on, the whimpers becoming more frequent, later accompanied by frightened whispers and strangled cries, a lot of which was in her native tongue, making it difficult to understand. He listened closely, picking apart words as he was able, his heart dropping as he realized what was happening. Somalia.

"Hey," he murmured, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer to the bed, "Zee, Somalia is long over." He paused, taking a steadying breath. "The team…we found you. Wasn't easy, but we weren't gonna leave you there." Gently, he brushed a hand through her hair, smoothing it back from her face. "You never told us what happened there."

She shifted under his touch, her breath catching, shivers coursing through her body. "No," she whispered hoarsely, another shudder forcing her onto her side, curling her into a fetal position.

"It's okay," he continued, cupping her cheek, running his thumb gently along her jaw line. "It's okay, Ziva. You're not there anymore. You're _not_ there. You're with me. You're _with_ me." He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "We rescued you. McGee…myself…we were in the compound with you, with Saleem. Took a hard beating, too…just to keep him busy." He paused, recalling that day. "We kept him busy until he brought you into the room. That was what we wanted. We found out…you were alive, Zee. That was what we needed…and Gibbs shot Saleem. Sniper rifle. Right between the eyes."

A sob broke from her lips and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, her chin quivering. "Tony?" came the strangled question, her hand twitching in his.

Taking a chance, he moved to the other side of the bed, crawling in beside her and pulling her trembling body against his, his arms wrapped protectively around her. He pressed his lips close to her ear, his breath warm on her cool skin. "Saleem _cannot_ hurt you anymore."

**000010000**

_Ziva had managed to work herself into the corner, pulling her knees up under her chin, staring blankly at the door. She had lost track of time, her tears long since having dried on her cheeks. She had no idea when Saleem would be back for her. All she knew was that she didn't want to give him that chance._

_Slowly, she uncurled herself from the corner, searching around the dark floor for the tattered remains of her clothes, pulling them back onto her bruised and used body. Her next search was for a weapon of any sort, leaving her quickly to realize that the room was basically bare. It wasn't that she was looking to fight her way out anymore. She was looking for another way out. She was ready to die._

"C'mon, Zee…"

_She looked up, gasping slightly. She'd thought that the whispers had stopped when Saleem had left her, that it had only been her wishful thinking that she'd heard Tony's voice._

"_Tony?" she replied, searching the room._

"Somalia is long over…We found you…"

_She froze, her mind racing. Somalia was over. Somalia _was _over._

"You never told us what happened there…"

"_Could not…I could not tell you, Tony," she breathed, "not even Gibbs. It was…so humiliating." Uneasy, she hugged her arms about herself. "If it is over, Tony, how do I get out of here?" She felt weak and tired._

"You're not there anymore…You're _with _me…"

"_No._" _Her eyes darted around the room. "I do not understand. Where are you, Tony?"_

"We rescued you…Gibbs shot Saleem…Right between the eyes…"

_Weakly, she sank to her knees, rocking slightly back and forth. Memories came flooding back to her, more intense this time. There was belief behind them. McGee and Tony had been beaten and bloody by the time she'd been taken to their room where they were told to decide who lived and who died. Tony had kept Saleem stalling until the moment Gibbs had pulled the trigger._

_Fresh tears leaked from her eyes as the room began to shift around her. It was true, she wasn't in Somalia. Relief washed through her, making her dizzy. "Tony?" She closed her eyes, feeling detached and lost, as if she was floating. Within moments, she felt hands drawing her back, anchoring her. She tried to struggle until strong, comforting arms closed around her and held her fast, protecting her. Finally, she was safe._

"Saleem _cannot _hurt you anymore…"

**000010000**

Tony held his breath as he felt Ziva's breathing change and her body relax against him. Her hand tightened around his and she shifted, causing him to lean up to watch her face. He released the breath he held as he saw her eyes flutter, slowly opening to the room in front of her. Carefully, he began to extract himself from the bed, but she held him fast, taking several deep, quavering breaths.

"Tony?" she managed to ask, her voice barely audible.

He hugged her tighter, "I'm here, Ziva."

"Thank God," she choked, refusing to let him go.

"I'm here," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She shifted, turning herself to face him, her hands coming to rest against his chest as she looked up into his bright eyes, her own swimming with tears. "You do not know…how good it is to see you, Tony."

_~*He smiled, relieved.*~_

**tbc…**


	15. Revelations

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay in posting another chapter. For those of you just coming into the story, I've moved from the US to Australia in the past two weeks and have just gotten settled. Here is the next installment and I hope it was worth waiting for. Thank you for all of the encouraging reviews and adds, please keep them coming, they help me along. We're nearing a conclusion in the near future, and a new SPN/NCIS crossover is also in the works. If you've enjoyed what you see here, find my author page on facebook and keep up to date on the newest developments. -Casmoiraitiel**

He had finally managed to extract himself from the bed when the nurse had came in to make her rounds, excusing himself to the hallway to share the news of her waking. With a surprisingly steady hand, he lifted his cell phone to his ear, speed dialing Gibbs' number, hardly hearing the click as the ringing began.

"_Gibbs," _the team leader answered on the second ring.

"Hey, boss," he greeted, his voice quavering a bit before he could think to control himself. "She's awake."

"_How's she doin', DiNozzo?"_ he asked, the sounds of rustling papers sounding through the phone. _"She say what happened yet?"_

"It was pretty bad, Gibbs, but she's…she seems to be okay. It was Somalia." He flinched as he heard a bitter curse from the older man. "Yeah, I know. I thought it was long gone, too."

"_See if you can get her to talk. Ducky's on his way. Need to stop this now before it gets any worse."_

"Yeah, boss," he agreed, his voice somewhat strained. He couldn't think of her in that situation again. It was too much. Fully distracted, it took him a moment to realize that the disconnect tone had started beeping in his ear. In typical Gibbs fashion, the team leader had hung up, expecting his orders to be carried out immediately, his professionalism belied only by the underlying concern in his voice.

Sighing, Tony took only a moment to send a quick text to Abby, knowing she'd be anxious to know that Ziva was awake. She'd spent more than her fair share of time at the bedside, as was evident by the presence of Bert on the bedside table. He slid the phone back into his pocket, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for the young blonde nurse to finish taking Ziva's vitals before stepping aside to let her out of the room.

"She says I can go when the doctor clears me," Ziva murmured, readjusting the blanket over her body. A slight blush darkened her cheeks and she looked away from Tony, not wanting to meet his eyes.

He moved back into the room, taking the seat beside her. Now that she'd had time to readjust to being back in the present, she was as embarrassed as he'd expected her to be. She thought she'd been weak and that was out of her character, and she was punishing herself for it. It took him a moment to reach for her hand and he smiled when she didn't pull away, instead letting him hold to her as he had during every watch he'd taken.

"I am…sorry you had to see that, Tony," she confessed, her voice small and filled with shame. "I had thought that I had put Saleem behind me. I was moving forward with my life." She dared a brief glance up at the man beside her. "I was moving forward with my new family."

"You can't pack all your bad memories away and expect them to just disappear, Zee," he scolded softly, running his thumb over the back of her hand as he had so often in the past few days.

"It has always worked before." She looked away again, her chin quivering slightly.

"Hey," he said gently, reaching up to cup her face and turn her attention back to him. "Something happened to bring those memories back. It wasn't your fault."

She laughed nervously, her eyes darting around his face as if the answers were written there. "I…I cannot tell you, Tony."

"Why not?" he demanded, his brow furrowed as he tried to establish eye contact between them again, not allowing himself to get frustrated by the chase. "Haven't I been there for you, Zee? Through everything, haven't I always had your back? Huh?"

"Yes." Her voice came out in a strangled whisper and she swallowed over the lump in her throat. She blinked at the tears that stung her eyes, willing them not to fall.

"I'm askin' you to trust me, Ziva David." He squeezed her hand. "Let me help you."

She met his eyes then, maintaining eye contact for a long moment, trying to convey everything she could in those few moments. Slowly, she managed a shaking breath, hearing his plea echo soothingly in her mind. Thankfully, he didn't rush her in his usual way, he simply waited by her side, unmoving, his hand still in hers while the other rested against her cheek.

"It was you, Tony," she confessed, a single tear leaking from the corner of her eye to get lost against his finger as it trekked downward.

The statement caught him off guard, but he wiped gingerly at the tear, brushing it away from her smooth cheek, remaining quiet by her side.

"When Matthews…when you were laying here…I feared the worst." Another tear replaced the one he'd wiped away, more threatening to follow. "It is you, Tony. You have always been the one to come to my rescue,…and when you were laying here and you could have died…" She paused, searching for the right words to express what she needed to say. "There is only one place that I have ever felt so helpless and lost before…and that was at the hand of Saleem. I…I do not wish to live without you, Tony."

He blinked, feeling a pang in his chest that made it painful to breathe. A burst of elation filled him, cutting through the sadness and worry that clouded his mind. "Zee," he rasped, tears filling his own eyes as he looked up at her.

She marveled at the tremble in his hands and the wetness that glassed his eyes, mirroring her own emotional state. She'd never imagined him this vulnerable when he was awake; never seen this much raw emotion since Jeanne, the one woman she was sure he'd loved. Had all of her suffering been because she was too stubborn to tell him the truth? Was she even reading him correctly in her current state of mind? Had she said too much? "Forgive me, Tony. Please."

"Zee." He raised another hand to her face, cupping both cheeks in his shaking hands. A seriousness had settled over him, and an intensity she'd never experienced before washed over her as he held her there, staring up into her eyes. "How can I forgive you, Ziva?" he managed, his voice edged in something she'd never heard directed at her before; it sent chills up her spine. "I would give my life for any one of my team, understand that."

"I understand," she breathed.

"I'm not sure when it happened, Zee, and I'm not sure how this is gonna change things, but you need to know that I love you, and I don't wanna live without you either." He brushed his thumbs along her cheeks, his eyes boring through her own.

She sat in shocked silence, taking in what he'd said, what she felt. She didn't even feel the excess tears slip from her eyes until she drew in a shuddering breath, the dam breaking as a soft sob escaped her lips. All of the apprehension she'd felt and the fear that had clogged her mind for the past month melted away, leaving nothing but shame that she'd been too stubborn and scared to talk to the man who sat beside her. She'd been too stubborn to be honest with him and with herself.

"I l-love you, too," she stammered, relief rushing through her as he slid into bed beside her again, pulling her back into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, crying freely as he held her tight. The light stroking of his hands against her back was comforting, reminding her that he was there.

She cried until her throat was raw, her eyes burning with tears and exhaustion. The emotional outpour had left her drained, her eyes drooping with the effort of staying open. He was quick to assure her everything was alright, surprising her with his own tears as she pulled back to look up at him.

"Are you alright, Tony?" she asked hoarsely, brushing her fingertips along his jaw line, catching one of his tears as he had hers.

He flashed her a winning grin, "I think everything's gonna be just fine." The grin faded as he searched her eyes, feeling her fingers flex in his hair as her hand came to rest against the side of his head. Daringly, he inched forward, watching the fresh blush raise on her cheeks with his intent.

She met him halfway, their lips meeting softly at first, tasting and testing, electricity seeming to course between them. Though they had often been forced undercover as a couple, no kiss they'd ever shared had felt real. Now was the complete opposite, a voluntary reciprocation of emotion fueled by desire and need that left them breathless and searching for more.

He pulled away reluctantly, attempting to catch his breath as he smiled down at her, happiness written plainly on his face. When he spoke, however, it wasn't directed toward her. "Stand there much longer without announcing yourself, Ducky, and we'll have to charge."

The doctor chuckled, "I hope I'm not intruding, Anthony." He waited as they untangled themselves from each other, Tony standing by her side as she sat up, her hand tightly held in his. "It's good to see you up, my dear girl." He offered her a smile

"Thank you, Ducky." She felt Tony squeeze her hand in reassurance. "This means another therapy session before I am allowed back at my desk, yes?"

"I am afraid so, Ziva, but not until you are ready." He nodded, more to himself. "There is, however, good news. You are clear to go home. I just spoke with your doctor."

She smiled slightly, absently, nodding. Home. She wasn't ready to go home yet. There were things there she had to face that she wasn't ready for. Memories of the last day she'd been awake had been intruding, and she couldn't help but remember seeing Saleem in her apartment. She started, grateful for another slight pressure from Tony's hand, drawing her back to the present yet again.

"I do hope you realize there is nothing to be ashamed of, lass," the older man offered, concern written blatantly on his face. "Even the strongest fall every now and again. Do not forget that we are here to support you, and would think nothing less of you were you to confide your troubles, dear girl. I would not suggest letting them grow to this point again."

"You are right," she acquiesced, "and I am sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for!" he exclaimed, shaking his finger for emphasis. "Just come about for tea whenever you're ready." He started toward the door, adjusting his jacket about his shoulders and fixing his hat back to his head. "Ah, Jethro! Impeccable timing, as usual." The doctor skirted by the senior agent, casting a smile at him before ducking down the hall.

Gibbs strode through the door, McGee close on his heels, pushing the door shut behind them. He looked over the two agents in silence, a long moment of thought showing in the expression he wore. Letting out a small sigh, he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed as he squinted at his senior field agent.

"I told you I'd cast the rules out the window, ya know, to help her wake up," he finally stated. "I'm willin' to look the other way…for now. Keep it out of the office. I don't wanna see it and I don't wanna hear it."

"Yes, boss," Tony managed, his surprise evident. He was quickly grounded by a short slap to the back of the head. "Thanks, boss."

Gibbs knelt in front of Ziva, taking the hand that Tony reluctantly dropped. He gazed up intently at the young woman who sat before him, unable to suppress the fatherly instincts he had toward her. He had always made it a point to be as distant as he could with his team, but time had worn at him. These three had been with him through thick and thin, and they were tighter than family. He felt it was his responsibility to watch after them.

"I meant what I said before, Ziver," he murmured, indicating the moment they'd shared in the interrogation room when Mossad had came to question her about Somalia, demanding she be returned home to Israel. He could see the memory flash through her mind and she managed a nod, biting her lip to keep her chin from quivering. "Understand?"

"Yes, Gibbs." She glanced away for a brief second, collecting herself before she dared to look back at him.

He stood, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, a rare moment that he'd dropped his guard around his team. "I don't wanna have this conversation again." He stepped back, favoring her with another tender gaze before pulling himself together. "We've all got a long weekend, Vance's orders. He expects you up for eval Tuesday morning, Ziva, after therapy on Monday."

She bit back her disgust, hating having to talk to the NCIS psychiatrist they always paired her with. Reluctantly, she nodded, knowing it was the only way she'd be allowed back at her desk on field duty. There was no other agent she'd trust to have their backs in her stead.

Slowly, the team broke apart, McGee and Gibbs eventually heading their separate directions, the older man no doubt headed to his basement to nurse a mason jar of bourbon as he worked on yet another boat. Tony turned his back as Ziva dressed, pulling on clothes from the overnight bag that had, at some point, been tossed into the corner of the room. She was able to check herself out and walk, hand-in-hand, from the hospital with Tony.

He held the car door for her, waiting for her to settle into the wide seat before closing her in, jogging around to slide into the driver's seat beside her. He started the car, flipping on the headlights to combat the dark outside as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. He could feel her unease as he started toward her apartment, watching her tense from the corner of his eye. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, the knuckles white from her grip.

"Wanna sleep over at my place?" he suggested, automatically taking the next turn back onto the major interstate. He reached for her hand as she nodded, smiling slightly as she took it, holding it firmly.

The rest of the ride passed in silence and he swung the car wide, parallel parking against the curb outside of his apartment, cutting the engine before moving to let her out of the car. She seemed to be somewhat numb, her eyes staring out somewhere past the hood of the car, worrying him.

"C'mon, Zee," he said quietly, reaching in to unbuckle her seatbelt. He helped her from the seat, leading her patiently up the short walkway to the door. Within moments, he had her settled on the couch, nursing a cool glass of water.

"I was…beaten," she murmured after a long silence, her eyes fixed on a loose thread on one of his shirt buttons.

He stilled, realizing she was speaking of Somalia. She licked her lips, moistening them as they'd gone dry in nervousness. She'd never spoken of it before and she didn't like feeling so vulnerable.

"I should never have gone out on my own. I left what was left of my team and…I was abducted. When I woke up, I was in a dark room, laying on the floor, staring at a pair of boots as they paced in and out of view in front of me. That was when I met Saleem." She took a steadying breath, adjusting her grip on the glass she held. "At first there were just questions…he wanted to know about my involvement with NCIS. Of course, I would not tell him. When I refused to say anything, he…he tortured me, but I would not break.

"He grew angry and his torture…more perverse. He knew that beating me would not have the immediate effect he desired. I was defiant," she looked up at him briefly, affirming that he was still there. It was hard for her to breathe, great pressure seizing in her chest as she recounted what had befallen her. "He would…strip me…and cut my skin. The c-cuts were small at first, all over my body…even on the soles of my feet." She shuddered, taking a great gulp of the remaining water in the glass. "Eventually, he began to…rape me."

"Oh,…Zee," he breathed, hurt flashing in his eyes for her. He could never imagine the extent of what she'd been through there.

"He would send someone to take me to be bathed. The water was so hot it burned my skin and they used rough brushes that left me raw. They would bring me back to the room and tie me down, sometimes across a table and sometimes against the wall." She blinked through tears, looking determinedly down at her glass. "There were a few times he did not even…do it himself. I do not know what he used, but it was horrible. My thighs…would be covered in blood when he finished with me." She forced herself to look up at him again, more tears falling down her cheeks. "Then you came, you and McGee. You saved me."

"I couldn't leave you there, Zee," he murmured, taking the glass and sitting it aside so he could hold her hands. "I wouldn't give up until Vance agreed to send the team after you."

"Thank you," she managed in a small voice, not resisting as Tony pulled her into a comforting embrace.

**tbc...**


	16. Everything's Gonna be Okay

**A/N: Another moment taken to thank everyone for your patience. Content warning: Blatant TIVA...oh, and sex. Yup, sex.**

Even though Ziva had never been one to openly discuss her feelings and experiences, she found that talking about her life with Tony was actually helping her. He didn't seem to be judging her, merely listening as she spoke of dreams she'd had as a child versus how she'd been raised to be a killer in service of her father, Eli. As was evident by the skills she'd shown as an agent for NCIS, she'd learned well as had often been sent out on brutal missions. The blood of many was on her hands. She'd even confessed that she felt her time in Saleem's compound was penance for the lives she'd been ordered to take over her career in Mossad. This had drawn a large protest from Tony, who'd then spent the better part of an hour lecturing her on how she should never think that way.

"Your past is behind you now, Zee. It's time for a fresh start. Wipe the slate clean. You're an agent…and a US citizen!" he exclaimed, staring her daringly in the eyes.

She'd spent the better part of the last two days curled with him on the sofa, simply talking. A slight smile touched her lips. She felt better now than she had in many years, as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"You gotta understand, Ziva," he pressed, "this is your chance to live life the way you wanna."

She looked up at him, shifting in her seat until she had moved to her knees, bringing herself eye level with him. "The way I want to?" she repeated slowly, waiting for him to nod. "What makes you think I am not living the way I wish to?"

"Oh, c'mon." He sighed, pulling her into his lap. "You take home random men because you're afraid of commitment. You're living constantly looking over your should because of your past. I mean, look at how many apartments that have been blown up. You've not had a steady place to live since you've been in the states." He rested his hands on her back, his fingers kneading absently at the skin beneath her shirt.

"I suppose it would be nice for the explosions to stop," she said thoughtfully, "but how can you be certain that I wish only to have one partner, Tony? It keeps things from…becoming boring."

He snorted, shaking his head.

"I believe this is a philosophy you also share, seeing as how you have not had a constant relationship since Jeanne." The last words were uttered gently, not as the jab they usually would have been had they been in the bullpen. She was concerned, knowing that wounds like the undercover op he'd been on with Jeanne had caused never truly healed.

A brief moment of silence passed between them as he considered her words. "I always act and talk big," he confessed, the corners of his mouth turning up a bit, "wanted to be Thomas Magnum with the red Ferrari and the beautiful women hanging on my arm." The smile faded a bit. "Jeanne was unexpected and I _did_ love her and there's not a day I don't regret…everything."

"I…am sorry, Tony." She ran her fingertips lightly over his cheek, trying to convey the comfort and affection she felt.

"Sounds crazy, I know, but you helped me through it." He closed his hand over hers. "It doesn't hurt as much now, and besides…I got _you_ out of the deal." He laced his fingers through hers.

"I must admit, Tony, I have never seen this side of you before."

"It's always been there."

"Yes, I know," she countered. "I've just never been able to place my finger on it. I have seen the 'DiNozzo charm,' I was just not aware that I would actually allow myself to fall prey to it."

He gasped, feigning hurt before bringing her back to the sofa and pinning her down. She looked up at him, not struggling as he held her wrists to the cushion beside her head, a slight teasing smile gracing her full lips.

"No woman is immune to the DiNozzo charm," he murmured, blinking innocently, "especially you, Ziva David."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He maneuvered above her, settling between her legs as she cradled his body on top of hers. "It might've taken longer than I wanted, but it did _eventually_ work."

"You are very egotistical," she smirked. "You know this, yes?"

"I've been told." He grinned.

With a nimble slide, she pressed up from the couch, sending him beneath her as she straddled him, holding him down in retaliation. The look, however, that passed through her eyes was not one of amusement, rather one of unadulterated desire. It hadn't been obvious when he'd had her pinned, but she could now feel the raging hard-on he'd been hiding; it was bulging against his jeans and pressed firmly against her thigh. His eyes had darkened in response and he freed himself, grasping at her hips as he pulled her forward, crushing his lips to hers.

An involuntary groan tore from his lips as she shifted, grinding against his hips. A throaty, lustful chuckle sounded from her chest and she kissed him again, wrapping her fingers in his hair. He forced himself upright, wrapping his arms fully around her to hold her closer, slightly winded as she continued the assault on his throbbing groin.

"What is it you want, Tony?" she asked huskily, breaking contact with his lips reluctantly.

"You," he replied, his voice strained in need. "I want you."

She stood, grasping his hand tightly in her own and coaxing him from the sofa. They moved together toward the bedroom, Tony sliding his arms about her waist as she moved in front of him. They paused in the doorway, finding themselves once more lip-locked holding tightly to one another.

He tugged at her shirt, lifting it free from her abdomen to feel her skin. She pulled back.

"What is it?" he questioned breathlessly, his hands gripping her hips.

"Nothing," she deflected, lowering her fingers to work at his shirt, undoing the buttons one at a time until the fabric fell away, revealing his bronzed skin. She trailed her hands slowly over his chest and abdomen, loving the way he flexed at her touch.

His breath caught as she unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them to the floor, his boxers following. He stood, completely nude in front of her as she touched and caressed, memorizing every inch of flesh. She smiled slightly each time he inhaled sharply, repeating the motion until he shivered.

It took only moment of the slow torture before he was anxiously reaching for her, pulling aside the offending articles of clothing as gently as he could. He frowned slightly as his eyes danced over the small scars that covered most of her skin, knowing that had been what she had wanted to hide from him earlier. He pulled her against him, his lips finding hers as he worked at her pants, sliding them free from her hips. She stepped out of them and slid onto the bed, displaying herself in only her underwear.

Growling low in his throat, he moved on top of her again, easily cradled by her body. He met her lips for a softer kiss before trailing downward, helping her out of her bra before appreciatively seizing an erect nipple in his mouth, his tongue and teeth leaving her gasping. She arched her back as he continued lower, hooking his thumbs into her thong panties, urging her to lift her hips so he could slide them away.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing the tender skin. "Do you want me, Ziva?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper as his warm breath washed over her skin, raising chills across her body.

"Yes, Tony," she managed to reply, biting her lip as she arched into him again.

He caressed down her body, his fingers easily finding her swollen button as they slid between her slick folds, showing him she was ready and waiting for him. It was impossible to ignore the trauma she'd endured at Saleem's hand, feeling the scars that hid just out of view as his fingers probed her depths. She shuddered, her fingers digging into his back as she held tight, riding out the waves as he pressed against her g-spot. He marveled in the way her muscles clenched around his fingers, milking every ounce of pleasure she could from his touch.

Gazing down at her, he withdrew his hand, bringing the wet fingers to his lips, letting her watch him taste her. It was intoxicating, her scent driving him wild.

Pressing forward, he buried himself inside of her, gasping with her as she contracted around his length. He held himself still, chills coursing through his body in tandem with hers as they lay joined. It took mere moments for her to lock her legs about his waist, urging him to thrust against her as she rose from the bed to meet his hips.

She was tight and he fit her perfectly, feeling the intense pressure as she milked him. The sensation was overpowering, leaving him struggling not to cum before she'd found her own release. He let his hands wander her body, finally closing around her breasts and tweaking her nipples, drawing a deep moan from deep inside her.

He strokes became harder and faster, drilling into her as he felt her tremble, her nails digging into his back.

"That's it," he panted encouragingly, bowing his head as he felt the first tell-tale contractions, "cum for me, Ziva."

None of her partners had been as considerate, pleasuring her first, asking her, begging her to release. The effect was instantaneous and she cried out, feeling him spill inside of her as the thrusts slowed and became clumsy, his seed mingling with her own juices.

She pulled him down against her, wrapping her arms tightly about him as they struggled to regain their breath.

**000010000**

"Agent David," Director Vance greeted, gesturing at the seat in front of his desk and waiting for the Israeli to take it before he continued. "Enjoy your weekend?'

"Yes, actually," she answered, crossing her legs casually as she looked him over, her eyes calculating. It took a lot for her to trust him, feeling her own guilt and attachment rise again when she thought about the woman who'd occupied the post before. Jenny had been her friend.

"The therapist seems to think you've made 'great strides' in dealing with your personal trauma," he stated, glancing down at the file in front of him. "How is that, Ziva?"

She regarded his question carefully, weighing her options. Vance was prone to shaking the team up and she didn't want to be the cause of it this time. "I have found that it does help to speak to those closest to me about what I have experienced. I also knew that you would not allow me back to field duty with my team until I had satisfied your own curiosities." She ticked her fingers against her knee, drumming them as she spoke. "What happened to Tony brought back memories I had suppressed and I found myself unable to cope. I was…unwilling to talk about what had happened. Because of this, I found myself unable to separate fiction from reality."

"I see," he responded quietly, reaching to his pocket for an ever-present toothpick to place between his teeth. "And now?"

"Now," she supplied, "I have found a confidant that has been where I have. There will not be another incident like this one."

He flipped through the file, ignoring her for a long moment, his eyes flying across the pages far too quickly to be taking anything in. The pros of having Ziva at NCIS far outweighed the cons, he knew that. The chewed a bit on the end of the toothpick, as if struggling to reach a decision.

Used to this type of behavior from her father, she simply sat, waiting for him to reach a decision regarding her reinstatement. Wordlessly, he eventually slid open the desk drawer, retrieving her badge and gun from where it had sat on top of a stack of old files. He laid them on the desk, looking squarely at her.

"I don't want to have these removed from you again, David. We clear?"

"Crystal, director," she responded, favoring him with a small smile before standing, securing her weapon at her side and pocketing her badge. Taking her dismissal, she turned her back to the desk and strode to the door, stepping through and letting it close behind her.

She looked down at the bullpen as Gibbs, Vance, and even Jenny had so often before, looking over the agents who at below. Gibbs struggled to read the blurred words on the computer screen, struggling even more as he attempted to navigate between emails. McGee was typing furiously, attempting to ignore the paper wads that occasionally found their way his way from Tony's desk while DiNozzo fiddled with loose objects at his desk, attempting to look busy while the boss was in the office. That was her place, at her desk across from her partner while at work and by his side outside of work.

She smiled, heading to the stairs to rejoin them. This was her family and her home. No matter what happened from that point on, she knew she'd be okay.

**Fin!**

**A/N: The ending is always the hardest, but that was it. I hope you all enjoyed this little story. Love or hate, leave it in a review. I love hearing from you. If you'd like to continue to follow me, the first chapter of the NCIS/SPN crossover should be up in the next few hours. (Here's hoping!) You may also find me on facebook under Casmoiraitiel. Hope to see you there.**


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